


I Could Get Used To This

by Nostalgia_101



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nostalgia_101/pseuds/Nostalgia_101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver offers Felicity a place to stay while she looks for a new apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set not long after episode 2.14 but Oliver & Sara never hooked up and Slade hasn't made himself known yet.

Felicity propelled her fists up in a self-defence pose, nearly leaping out of her desk chair when a scrunched up ball of paper hit the middle of her forehead. Tearing her eyes away from the computer she was met with the sight of two grown-ass men attempting not to giggle. “Real smooth, guys,” she said, trying to compose herself. “Did I miss the memo about this new way of greeting co-workers?”

“No, but it’s nice to see our training’s come in handy,” Diggle replied in amusement as she abruptly lowered her hands.

Oliver nodded solemnly. “The office supplies _were_ looking pretty shifty.”

“Hey, nuh-uh, you two don’t get to sass me right now without explaining why you’re trying to slam dunk my face,” Felicity protested, pointing between her two friends.

“In all fairness we did call your name about five times before reinforcements were needed,” said Oliver. “Turns out I just have really good aim,” he added innocently.

Picking up the paper from her desk she tossed it in Oliver’s direction, watching as it veered right and bounced off Diggle’s shoe. “And I couldn’t hit a target if it were dancing naked in front of me,” she muttered, before wincing slightly. “Not that anyone should be doing that in the office… although that’s probably one memo I _wouldn’t_ miss…” She heard the men cough and snapped back to attention. “Sorry, what were you guys going to ask me?”

“We’re heading out for lunch,” said Diggle. “Did you want to join us?” 

“Oh God yes, I’m starving.” Felicity stood to gather a few items into her purse, smiling when Oliver moved around to pick up her coat and hold it out for her. “I’ll need to bring my tablet with me, though,” she said, slipping her arms into the sleeves of the blue pea coat. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“QC stuff or ‘other’ work stuff?” Oliver frowned, stepping back as she did up her buttons. “I thought we were up to date with both?”

“Neither,” she replied as they moved towards Diggle and headed for the elevator. “It’s more like _me_ stuff, in the sense that I _may_ have run into a slight problem and I’m operating on about zero sleep and ten cups of coffee trying to fix it.”

The two men shared a look of concern as the elevator doors opened and they all shuffled inside. “What kind of problem?” they asked in unison.

“Wow, your jaws just clenched in perfect synchronization too,” Felicity said in awe.

“ _Fe-li-city_ ,” Oliver exhaled slowly. “What problem?”

“It’s OK, I’m fine, no one’s after me,” she reassured them, biting her bottom lip. “It’s just the small fact that as of tomorrow I’ll be kicked out of my apartment and technically I’ll be homeless.” Felicity gave them a sheepish grin. “Good thing I know of some people who can lift heavy boxes, huh?”

* * *

“What about this one?” Felicity passed her tablet across the table for Oliver and Diggle to look at while she took a bite of her sushi. “Do you think by ‘charming size’ they actually mean ‘would probably be suited for a tiny mouse-like person’?”

Oliver raised an eyebrow as he scrolled through the few available pictures of the apartment. “I’m pretty sure there might already be mice living in there.”

“OK, well then click on the other tab. That complex isn’t too bad, right?”

The men tried not to flinch. “Felicity we’ve infiltrated seedy criminal hideouts that look better than this,” said Diggle.

“Yeah, but throw in a nice lamp, some cushions…” she trailed off at their sceptical looks, “… you’ll have yourself a really chic drug den. All right I get it, this place is bad. But as last minute rental plans go, I don’t have many options.”

“I’d suggest my place as a short-term solution,” said Diggle, manoeuvring food onto his chopsticks, “but Lyla’s there a lot these days and it might get a bit… awkward.”

Felicity smiled at his bashfulness. “Thanks anyway, Digg. I appreciate the offer but you definitely don’t need me as the third wheel on your love machine,” she teased, chuckling as he shook his head at her. 

Oliver slid the tablet back to the blonde, clearing his throat. “Come and stay with me for a while,” he casually threw out as he picked up a dumpling. “It’s partially my fault you’re in this situation in the first place.” He heard a noise and quickly poured more water for Felicity who started to choke on some rice.

“What are you talking about?” she rasped, gulping down a mouthful of her drink. “How on earth is it your fault that I forgot my lease was up?”

“Because I have you working not one but two very demanding jobs that don’t leave a lot of room for much else,” he reminded her. “And I always ask too much, I know – of both of you,” he added, acknowledging Diggle. “So I just want to help.” 

“Oliver, you don’t have to feel guilty about this,” Felicity gently replied. “And not to rehash the mom-shaped elephant in the room – not that your mom is in any way or form an oversized jungle creature – but you’re currently living in a hotel.” She perked up. “Hey, there we go, I can just book a hotel for a while. I mean, sure, there’s plenty of other ways to drain my bank account of savings. Those red leather ankle boots in the boutique down the road aren’t going to buy themselves. But it’s a definite idea.”

“My hotel room was only temporary. I’m in the Queen penthouse now,” Oliver replied. “No one had been in there for a while so it just needed to be re-furnished.”

Felicity gaped at him. “Wait, you have a penthouse? How did I not know this?” She heard Diggle snort and she rolled her eyes, smiling. “Who am I kidding, of _course_ your family owns a penthouse apartment. You could probably make your own Monopoly board with the amount of real estate you guys have.”

“He’s pretty good at chutes and salmon ladders too,” quipped Diggle.

Oliver fiddled with the corner of a napkin. “I’m being serious. There’s plenty of room in there. You can stay for however long it takes to find a new place.”

She sank back into the booth. “Oliver, there’s already so many rumors floating around QC about…” she gestured awkwardly, “y’know, _relations_ between bosses and employees.”

“Everyone knows Digg and I are just friends,” he replied, lips twitching ever so slightly at her exasperation.

“We occasionally cuddle, but you do give good hug, man,” added Diggle.

“Thank you.”

Felicity folded her arms across her chest. “I work with comedians,” she muttered. She mentally weighed up her options, glancing between Oliver and the disaster-zone of an apartment she’d looked up. “It would be nice not to have to worry about rooming with rodents or inhaling asbestos,” she mused.

“Is that a yes?” asked Oliver.

Scrunching up her nose, Felicity thought of a few more concerns. “Are you sure you won’t get sick of me? Because we’re already in each other’s faces a lot of the day. And I’m not the tidiest of people to live with. I leave mugs lying around the place like they’re a breadcrumb trail to something awesome. But, surprise, it actually just leads to more dishes I haven’t washed yet. And…”

“Felicity.” He waited for her to finish talking and smiled. “It will be fine. I promise. Plus I like to leave towels lying on the floor so we’ll call it even.”

She allowed herself to slowly smile back. “Alright, yes. You’ve got yourself a messy houseguest. Thank you, Oliver,” she added sincerely. “Um, and I kind of wasn’t kidding about moving all those boxes into storage earlier either,” she said, ducking her head. “I’ll call Roy and Sara, we can make it a real Team Arrow bonding experience!”

“Stop.”

“Sorry Oliver, I can’t hear you over Team Arrow being kickass removalists.”

* * *

By the time the following afternoon rolled around, Felicity was already over the thought of having to move ever again. Sara was spending time with Laurel, but poor Oliver, Diggle and Roy had helped her cart boxes and furniture downstairs, into the rental truck and then out again into the storage facility for most of the Saturday. Oliver had offered to pay for people to do it for her, but she refused, insisting he’d already done enough by taking her in and besides, she didn’t have _that_ much stuff.

“Dude,” said Roy, shifting the last piece of furniture into the storage space, “I know I’m pretty Hulked up right about now,” he glared at Oliver, “and don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve given me all the heavy crap.” He focused back on Felicity. “But is your sofa made of lead or what?”

Felicity threw plastic sheeting over the piece, carefully covering the wooden panelling on the side. “It was my great-grandmother’s so it’s kind of an antique.”

“Are these boxes full of old antiques too?” puffed Oliver, placing the two heavy items in the back corner.

“If by old antiques you mean every computer I’ve owned in the past ten years then yes.” She shrugged at his curious gaze. “They’re like family members to me. Sure they’re useless and out-dated, but so is my Uncle Frank and we still keep him around.”

Diggle brushed off his hands and stood in the entryway. “There’s nothing else left in the van, I think we’re finally done.”

“I can’t believe my whole life fits in here,” said Felicity, glancing around at all of her belongings. She’d only packed one duffel bag and a medium-ish suitcase to bring to Oliver’s, not wanting to appear as though she was going to overstay her welcome. “Bye for now Xbox,” she said to one of the piles. “Bye comfy throw blanket with the nail polish stains.” She ran her hand over another box, reading the handwriting. “Bye… Random crap? Wow, I really got lazy with the labels towards the end there.”

“You know you can bring more stuff with you if you want, Felicity,” said Oliver. “I don’t mind. It’s not like there isn’t any room.”

“You’re on your own with the sofa,” Roy muttered. “This pack mule has had enough.”

Felicity shook her head, ushering them outside so she could roll the door down and lock up. “No, I’m fine, seriously. It’s silly to bring too many things with me when I won’t be there for that long anyway. I swear I’ll be out of your hair in a week, tops.” Pocketing the keys, Felicity beamed at everyone. “Thank you for ruining half your weekend for me, guys. I really appreciate it. Can I shout everyone a fancy meal? And by that I mean Big Belly Burger?”

Checking his watch, Diggle shook his head. “I promised Lyla I’d take her out tonight so I’d better get moving.”

“Same,” said Roy, before giving the older man an embarrassed look. “I mean not ‘same’ as in I’m taking your girlfriend out on a date, because that would be weird.”

“People just love third wheeling us this week,” Diggle said in feigned annoyance, giving Felicity a wink.

“I just meant I’m supposed to be meeting Thea for our own movie date,” Roy continued. “Not that we actually watch much of the movie.” He noticed Oliver raise an eyebrow and turned a slight shade of pink. “Not that Thea’s older brother needed to know that… Y’know what? I’m just gonna leave before things get worse. Call me if you need me.” 

The three of them stifled their laughter as Roy made a hasty exit. “Good to know the Mirakuru isn’t always a miracle worker,” Felicity joked, making sure the door was sealed tight before they left the compound.

* * *

After dropping off the truck and handing her keys back to her former landlord, Felicity drove herself and Oliver to the penthouse, her car looking somewhat out of place near all the expensive vehicles in the parking garage.

Oliver took the suitcase out of the trunk and lifted it with ease, not bothering to use the wheels underneath, while Felicity slung the duffel bag over her shoulder and locked the car. She followed him to an entryway, which led to the main foyer of the building. Oliver gave a nod to the doorman before making his way to the elevator with Felicity.

She watched him press a code for the penthouse suite. “Oliver?”

“Mmm?”

“Did your family use this place a lot… before the island?”

He cast his eyes down before looking at her. “Yeah, we did. How did you know?”

“You said it needed to be refurnished, like it had been empty for quite some time.” She smiled softly at him. “I guess it must have been hard for everyone with all those memories lingering around.”

Oliver nodded, flexing his fingers against the handle of the suitcase. “That’s why it’s good to make new memories,” he said, offering her a faint smile.

“Like when we eventually run out of clean mugs and glasses and we have to drink our coffee out of fashionable jars like hipsters,” she teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

He smirked. “Exactly like that.” The elevator dinged, signalling that they’d reached their destination. “We’re here,” said Oliver as the doors opened. “Welcome home.”

Felicity remained rooted to the spot as Oliver stepped forward into what could only be described as pure, expansive luxury. He set down her case in the living area and shrugged off his jacket, throwing it onto the back of the plush sofa as he began to kick off his shoes. Felicity had dealt with work Oliver and Arrow Oliver but _this_ Oliver was new to her and it threw her slightly off kilter. She took a few tentative steps inside while the words _welcome home_ echoed around in her head. That small statement opened up a whole can of emotional worms she hadn’t thought through. She was living with Oliver. She was going to be sleeping in the same place as him. She was going to see him first thing in the morning, most probably shirtless, with sexy bed hair and…

“Do I need to find another ball of paper to aim at your head?”

Felicity snapped out of her daze to find Oliver staring at her in bemusement. “What? No! Sorry, just slightly overwhelmed by the place. It’s seriously the size of a small country up here. Actually make that a continent. Just as long as it’s not Australia: I don’t want my kangaroo phobia to kick in.” She chuckled nervously, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “What did I space out on this time?”

“I was going to show you to the bedroom,” he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your bedroom I mean. I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” she quickly replied, too caught up in her own thoughts to notice his slight faux pas. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Felicity followed him down the passageway. 

First thing tomorrow, the apartment hunt was _definitely_ on.


	2. Chapter 2

The very first thought Felicity had upon waking was that the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man had inhaled her. She blinked a few times before remembering where she was and dragged the white comforter off her head. Reaching across the nightstand to fetch her glasses, Felicity untangled her limbs from the sheets, which judging by how incredibly soft they felt, had a thread count of one million and were spun with actual unicorn fur.

She put her glasses on, catching sight of herself in the mirror over the dressing table. “Oh God, why?” she groaned, attempting to smooth down her hair. “How do people in the movies always look so perfect when they wake up?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed to stand and made her way into the en suite bathroom to take a shower, lest Oliver think he was rooming with an extra from The Walking Dead.

They hadn’t had much of a chance to dwell on their new living situation yesterday thanks to Officer Lance calling her with a tip-off about a criminal that had been on the Arrow’s radar. The majority of the evening had been spent in the foundry with the rest of the team, and by the time they got back to the penthouse after a successful takedown they were too drained to do anything except go to sleep.

Turning off the water, Felicity wrapped herself in a towel and padded back into the bedroom to rifle through her suitcase, dragging out a pair of jeans and a purple sweater. She got dressed and brushed her hair into its usual ponytail, quickly putting on some make-up just as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit her nose. Inhaling deeply, Felicity smiled and opened the door to make her way to the kitchen but couldn’t recall which direction she had to go.

“Um, Oliver?” she called out loudly, hoping he could hear. “Don’t laugh but… Marco?” She paused before hearing a faint snort of amusement.

“Polo,” his voice rang out.

Smirking, Felicity headed right, admiring some of the artwork adorning the walls on her way. “Marco?” she repeated, the smell of coffee becoming stronger.

“Polo,” he replied. “Do you want me to send up a flare too?”

“Save it for when I attempt to find the home theater,” she retorted, walking down a small staircase which led into the living area and then finally the grandiose kitchen. Felicity smiled at Oliver who was leaning against the marble bench in his gym clothes, holding a cup out for her. “You should really give all of your guests a complimentary map,” she said, gratefully accepting the hot beverage.

“Felicity, it’s a double-level penthouse not the whole building.”

She raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “Wow, this place must legitimately seem tiny to you, huh? Only three bathrooms, whatever will you do?” she teased.

“I’ll live. Did you sleep OK?” he asked, watching as she imitated his position against the island bench in front of him.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, blowing into her mug before taking a sip. “I mean I nearly suffocated myself in all the bed covers but kind of just thought, ‘Well, this is it. This blanket tomb is my home now. I hope it gets Wi-Fi’.” She took another drink. “How about you?”

Oliver half-shrugged his shoulder. “I slept fine.”

“I don’t know how you couldn’t, those beds are amazing,” she enthused. “It’s like sleeping on a cloud… not that you could actually do that without falling right through to your death of course. Whoever made that comparison didn’t really ‘science’ it out, huh? Anyway,” she said, halting her rambling, “too long, didn’t read: the beds are comfy.”

“Fit for a _queen_ even?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

She laughed. “He makes coffee _and_ jokes, what can’t he do?”

“Sudoku,” he said gravely. “My greatest adversary.”

“I’ll add it to the criminal database.”

They smiled at one another for a beat, taking long sips of their coffees before Felicity cleared her throat. “So I was thinking I might check out some apartments open for inspection today,” she said brightly, walking across the room to sit at the table. “I set up my email to get alerts on places that hopefully don’t resemble a murder scene.”

Oliver folded his arms, contemplating her. “Don’t feel as though you have to rush anything,” he stated. “Like I said before, you’re welcome here for as long as you want.”

“I know, but I should at least have a look today while I’ve got some free time,” she said, smoothing a hand over a dent in the tabletop. “Is this one of the few items you salvaged from the old days?” She smiled as he nodded. “What happened?”

“Eight-year-old Speedy happened,” he replied fondly. “She was racing around like she always did, chasing me with one of my parent’s antique figurines, when she tripped and the statue went flying.” He chuckled. “It broke of course and dad grounded her for a week, but I was happy to see it go. That thing was ugly.”

“Poor Thea, but poor table as well.” She jokingly slammed her fist down. “That is mahogany!” Felicity raised an eyebrow at Oliver’s blank look. “Hunger Games? No, not ringing any bells?” She whistled. “Wow, we really need to put that home theater to good use. Katniss Everdeen is like your spirit animal.”

He shook his head in amusement before placing his empty cup in the sink. “Give me ten minutes to shower and change and we can get going.”

Felicity furrowed her brow. “Get going where?”

“To look at apartments.”

“Oh! Oh no I don’t expect you to come with me,” she stammered, accidentally sloshing around coffee as she waved her arms. “It’ll probably be really tedious and I’m sure you’ve got better ways to relax on a Sunday. Not that I’m even sure you know how to relax – you probably find scaling tall buildings soothing – but you know what I mean.”

“Felicity it’s fine,” he assured her. “I just thought it might be helpful for you to have a sounding board.”

“Of course it would but…” Hesitancy etched across her features. “Aren’t you worried about people seeing you scoping out places to live with your assistant? The gossip blogs will have a field day.”

Oliver shrugged. “I’ll wear a baseball cap and something casual.” He tipped his chin up obstinately. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty good at keeping my identity a secret.”

* * *

“Mr Queen, what a _wonderful_ surprise to see you here,” the realtor greeted with a bright smile, enthusiastically shaking Oliver’s hand as he and Felicity stepped through the door of the fifth-storey apartment. “I’m Sandra and it will be my privilege to help you _any_ way I can.”

Felicity bit back a laugh as Oliver grimaced. “Thank you, but I’m not actually looking today,” he politely replied, unlatching his hand from her grip. “I’m just here for moral support.”

“Hi, I’m Felicity Smoak,” said the blonde, thrusting out her hand for the realtor to shake instead. “I’m sure it will be less of a privilege to assist me, but I almost always pay my rent on time and I don’t own any pets because trust me, there was a whole catastrophe with sea monkeys in elementary school that suggests I shouldn’t go down that path.”

Sandra quickly shook Felicity’s hand, her earlier eagerness waning visibly. “Well, that is… good to know. Ah, that’s my phone I apologize,” she said, as a ring tone began to play. “Excuse me, won’t you?”

Holding on to the strap of her purse, Felicity turned to Oliver with a smirk. “How’s that camouflage working out for ya?”

“Maybe I should have worn the mask instead,” he said dryly, tugging his cap down further on his head.

“Oh yeah, I can see the headline now,” she said under her breath, inspecting a corner of the room where the paint was peeling. “ _Vigilante ups the ante of the rental game – vows to paint every room green_.”

“This place seems a bit run-down,” said Oliver, as they strolled down the narrow hall and into the modest bedroom. He crossed over to the window where the fire escape resided. “And the alleged security features are a joke,” he said with a frown as he played around with the latch.

“Yeah, it’s not really screaming liveable to me either,” agreed Felicity, taking her tablet out of her purse. “It’s OK, this is only the first stop. We’ve still got a few more to inspect.” She didn’t look up as she found the next address amongst her emails. “I think it might be best if you follow my lead next time, Master of Disguise.”

“… I don’t even want to know.”

* * *

“Great to meet you, Mike,” Felicity beamed at their next realtor, holding out her hand. “My name’s Felicity.” She watched as Mike gave Oliver a puzzled glance. “And I see you’ve noticed my cousin Jean-Luc,” she added briskly. “He’s on vacation from France and I kind of tricked him into coming along with me.” She spoke behind her hand to Mike. “He thought the Empire State Building was in Starling City. _Poor thing’s a bit clueless_ ,” she added in a stage whisper. Felicity gave Oliver’s arm a quick nudge, holding back her grin. “Say hi, Jean-Luc!”

Fixing the blonde with a withering stare, Oliver exhaled slowly through his nose before giving Mike a tight smile. “Bonjour,” he gritted out through his teeth.

“Hi,” Mike replied, speculation still rampant on his face. He looked back at Felicity. “Has anyone ever told you your cousin is the spitting image of…”

“That guy off that vampire TV show, I know it’s crazy right?” Felicity interrupted, stepping forward. “If you don’t mind we might go and see what the other rooms are like.” She gripped Oliver’s sleeve, dragging him along with her. “We’ll yell out if we need anything!”

Once they were safely in the bathroom, Oliver folded his arms as Felicity gave him a sheepish grin. “ _That_ was your ingenious plan?” he deadpanned. “Something tells me he didn’t quite buy it.”

“Oh come on, who’s going to believe that Oliver Queen is spending his weekend trolling the city as a character actor?” She turned up her nose at the mold residue on the ceiling. “It’s just some harmless fun. And besides, at the next place you could be my personal bodyguard, ooh, or maybe my interior designer!” Felicity heard another deep sigh resonate from her friend.

“ _Merde_.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

* * *

Sara doubled over, holding up her hand for Oliver to pause their training session because she was laughing too hard. “Wait a second,” she choked, taking in Felicity’s delighted grin. “You actually had him do a British accent at the last place? That’s Ollie’s _worst_ accent.”

“A fact I found out too late when he greeted the realtor with a panicked _‘allo guvnor_ ,” Felicity responded, swivelling in her computer chair to scrutinize Oliver. “Did you attend the Michael Caine school of accents for only one semester or…”

Giving up hope of getting any more work done, Oliver put his bamboo stick back in its cabinet. “I think I might hit the showers,” he muttered, ignoring the chuckling in his wake.

“That was a better ab workout than doing crunches,” said Sara, putting her own stick away before sitting down on Felicity’s desk with her water bottle.

“I probably shouldn’t tease him so much,” Felicity admitted, tapping a few search items on her keyboard. “He played along really well for someone whose default setting is usually ‘intense stoicism’. Though I may have broken his brain with all my antics.”

Sara shrugged, taking a swig of her water. “I don’t know, I think it’s nice he gets to act like a goofball every now and then. You bring out his fun side. God knows there wasn’t much of that happening on the island.” Her voice trailed off and her smile faded, just as Oliver’s tended to on the rare occasions he spoke about the past. “Anyway,” she said, shaking out her thoughts, “were any of the apartments OK?”

“One of them smelt like it was doused in cat pee, and that was probably one of the better places, so no,” said Felicity with a wry smile. “The hunt is still on.”

“What are we hunting now? Feral cats?” Roy’s voice called out, as he made his way down the stairs of the foundry with Diggle. “I didn’t sign up for animal control.”

“Didn’t Oliver tell you?” said Diggle, handing Felicity and Sara their takeaway burgers and fries he and Roy had collected on the way over. “Cat wrangling was the next step in your training after slapping water.”

Roy frowned. “I know you think you’re joking but the dude’s teaching methods are so warped that it could be true.”

“Patience, grasshopper,” said Felicity, giving the boy’s arm a gentle squeeze, “you need to trust that Oliver knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah easy for you to say when you have the big guy showing you proper moves,” he retorted, nodding towards Diggle. “Maybe we should swap Mr Miyagis for a while, see how much you enjoy playing pat-a-cake with a bowl of water?”

Felicity folded her arms and smiled. “Challenge accepted.”

The four of them eagerly tucked into their meals as Felicity filled in the boys on the highlights of her busy day. Oliver joined them five minutes later, rolling his eyes at Digg when he apologized to ‘Jean-Luc’ for not having any croissants.

“Any new potential cases on the system?” asked Oliver, stealing some fries from Felicity’s pile before pulling up a chair to sit with the group.

“The food thief, for one,” Felicity retorted, eyeing him over her glasses. “There’s also a few snippets about a woman the press have dubbed ‘Poison Ivy’ because of the way she deals with her victims, but she seems to be sticking to Gotham City for now.”

Oliver nodded, digging through a brown paper bag for his burger. “We’ll keep an eye on her anyway.”

The central screen pinged, notifying Felicity of one of her Google alerts she’d set up. She clicked on the email, eyes widening at what she saw. “Oh no, no, no,” she mumbled, setting down her cheeseburger. “This isn’t good.”

“What isn’t good?” said Oliver, rolling his seat in beside her as the rest of the team also gathered to take a look. He raised an eyebrow as Felicity clicked on a link that led them to a gossip website filled with paparazzi photos of their day out.

“ _Royal rendezvous_ ,” Roy read aloud, “ _Oliver Queen sets up his castle with mystery blonde_.”

“Hold up, _mystery_ blonde?” huffed Felicity, suddenly indignant. “I attend every corporate meeting and event that Oliver does and I don’t warrant a name in their terrible headline? May as well just label me The Invisible Girl and be done with it.” She took a breath, reining in her outcry. “Not that I particularly _want_ to be splashed all over the internet of course but it’s the principle of the matter.”

Sara shrugged. “As far as tabloid photos go they’re not really that scandalous,” she offered. “All you’re doing is walking side-by-side out of a few apartments.”

“It could be worse,” agreed Diggle. “At least you’re both clothed.”

“Why wouldn’t we be…?” Oliver started, before shaking his head and turning to Felicity. “I’m sorry you had to be dragged into this,” he said ruefully. “I thought that interest in me might have finally died down but one of the realtors must have tipped them off. I don’t think Oliver Queen will ever lead a normal life.”

“Does he realize he refers to himself in the third person a _lot_?” Roy said under his breath to Diggle. 

“Preaching to the choir, man,” Diggle muttered.

Felicity clasped her hand onto Oliver’s arm. “Hey, you don’t have to be sorry. I mean yeah, it’s not the greatest of things to ever happen to me, but I’m more annoyed on your behalf than anything else.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I can work my magic and get rid of most of paparazzi photo trail for now, but unfortunately there’s bound to be more out there. Those people are like vultures.” Felicity’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “We’ll just have to make sure we’re extra vigilant when we go to and from the penthouse.”

“It should be OK tonight,” said Oliver, standing up. “I’m going to stay out late and do some patrolling of The Glades so I’ll be home late.” 

“I’ll come with you,” said Sara, scrunching up her rubbish and aiming it for the trash.

Oliver approached the glass case that held his costume and took out his bow. “Are you tagging along as well, Roy? It’s probably best we work on some more training techniques.”

“Yeah, about that,” said Roy, leaping up to join them. “Mystery blonde and I had an idea we wanted to run by you…”

* * *

Felicity’s second morning in the penthouse was much like her first. She woke up slightly disorientated by her surroundings, caught an eyeful of the haystack her hair had become overnight, and got showered and dressed before deeming herself fit to greet other humans. She did miss the luxury of slopping around in the morning in her pajamas, occasionally blasting terrible pop music to get her motivated, but Oliver didn’t really need to witness that. _Especially_ her lame pajamas, which she’d only brought one pair of in her haste to pack.

She strolled down the hall; her tablet tucked under one arm, resisting the urge for a celebratory fist pump at remembering the correct way. Entering the kitchen, Felicity noticed a body leaning into the open fridge door. “Oliver, please tell me you’ve got a box of Lucky Charms stashed away here somewhere? Long story, but the bedding keeps giving me marshmallow vibes and I’m having a serious craving for…” Her voice cut out when a stranger’s head popped up to look at her. Gaping at the tall sandy-haired man, Felicity reared her tablet back into a throwing stance. “OLIVER!” she yelled, quickly backing away towards to the door. Closing the fridge, the man went to approach her but Felicity held out a finger in warning. “You stay right there! Don’t move!”

“I’m not here to hurt you, miss,” said the man, holding his hands up in a placating manner. 

“Yeah, I’ll bet that’s what every intruder says before they get all stabby,” she accused, hearing feet thundering down the staircase in the other room.

Oliver rushed into the kitchen, still wet from his shower, gripping a towel around his waist. “Felicity? What’s going on?” he said, eyes flashing wildly. Observing the scene before him, Oliver soon allowed his stress to alleviate. “I see you’ve met one of my family’s personal chefs then?”

“Personal chef?” Felicity mumbled, eyeing the man before her who pointed to the white chef’s hat logo on his black shirt she’d somehow glossed over.

“I don’t exactly have time to make meals during the week so Benny stocks up the refrigerator for me every Monday,” Oliver explained with a wry smile. “In hindsight I _probably_ should have mentioned that.”

Felicity slowly lowered her computer. “Oh…” She acknowledged Benny. “Sorry for the whole ‘accusing you of being a serial killer’ thing,” she winced. “In my defence I haven’t had my bucket of coffee yet so…”

“It’s alright, miss,” Benny replied with a smile. “No harm done.” He wheeled out an empty food trolley that had been hidden behind the island bench top. “I’m finished here anyway, Mr Queen, so I’ll see myself out.”

Oliver nodded at him as he exited the room. “Thank you, Benny.” He threw a worried glance his roommate’s way. “Felicity are you sure that everything’s OK? You’re not usually that… jumpy.”

“I’m fine,” she stammered, snapping her eyes up when she realized her gaze was directed at his bare chest. “Sorry, I’m not staring. I mean I _was_ staring, but I wasn’t _staring_ staring,” she clarified, stepping in closer to inspect his skin. “How on earth did you get that giant bruise?” Felicity lightly grazed her fingers across the left side of his ribs.

His body tensed at her touch. “It’s nothing,” he said, holding the towel a bit more firmly. “I just forgot how gung-ho Roy could be.”

“You’re getting way too many injuries lately,” she scolded him, dropping her hand back to her side. “You need to be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“It’s kind of hard to take you seriously when you’re standing here like you’re about to enter a steam room.” Felicity licked her lips. “Before you scurry away and get dressed, though, I need to ask one important question.” Oliver raised an eyebrow as she broke into a smile. “Do you have any leprechaun-themed cereal at your disposal?”

Oliver smirked at her. “Let me have a look.”

* * *

Keeping one eye on the kitchen, Benny took a miniature black audio device out of his pocket and attached it underneath a portrait in the entryway. It was one of six he’d managed to plant around the place before he’d been interrupted. Wheeling his trolley into the elevator, Benny waited for the doors to shut before he pulled out his cell and composed a quick text message.

_Bugs are in. Let me know my next move._


	3. Chapter 3

Felicity drew in a sharp breath as Oliver landed on top of her, their bodies pressing together in all sorts of _interesting_ ways. “We’ve got to stop meeting on the ground like this,” she panted, as Oliver propped himself up on his forearms. “And you’re still really sweaty,” she added, her hand trailing down his back of its own accord. 

“At least there aren’t any landmines this time,” he said, smiling at her futile attempts to puff away a strand of hair that had become stuck to her face. She stilled as he lifted a few fingers to gently brush it away for her.

“Thanks,” Felicity murmured, biting her lip as Oliver cleared his throat and pushed himself up from her and the training mat they had accidentally crashed into. “I think my crime fighting ponytail needs work,” she said with a quick laugh, leaping to her feet before Oliver had the chance to offer out his hand to help. “Although Sara still manages to kick ass _and_ look like she’s in a really intense shampoo commercial, so maybe a wig’s the way to go.” 

“I prefer barrettes myself,” Oliver deadpanned, taking a long draught of water from his sports bottle. “My hair just gets so unruly sometimes.”

Felicity flicked him across the leg with her towel. “You make fun of me now, but you’ll be sorry when I’m blinded by my Cousin Itt hair in the middle of a showdown and accidentally punch you in the face.”

“Well it’s a good thing it won’t have to come to that,” he replied.

She gazed at him with a quirked eyebrow. “The punching part or me actually helping out the team from behind the computer desk again?” Felicity rummaged around her bag for her own water bottle. “Because I hate to break it to you, Oliver, but I’m not just doing this training thing for the cute gym outfits.”

“Felicity…” he exhaled, searching around for the right words. “We don’t expect you to have to leap into the fray. It takes months, _years_ even, to build up the skills set your body needs to be able to fight properly.”

“Hmm, I can just picture that conversation next time I’m face-to-face with someone.” Felicity held up her hands in mock protest. “Woah there buddy, this is a low-violence zone. I haven’t reached my black belt for the salmon ladder yet.” She affected a deep voice. “Oh my mistake, madam, let me release you from this death grip. Fabulous crime fighting hair by the way!” Taking a defiant drink of water, Felicity silently counted the tics in Oliver’s jawline. _One, two, three_ … “Go on, you know you’re dying to say something.”

“… I’m just wondering why the bad guy sounds like Alan Rickman,” he shrugged.

“Don’t deflect,” she said, pointing at him accusingly just as Diggle and Roy returned from their sprint intervals outside. Felicity turned with a smile to greet the boys. “How goes the workout?”

Roy sat down on the training mat while Diggle perched on the edge of Felicity’s desk. “Well I didn’t have to high five any bowls of liquid for hours on end, so I’m going to chalk it up as a win,” said Roy, giving Oliver a sarcastic smile.

Rolling his eyes, Oliver picked up the end of the mat to haul it back to the wall, dumping Roy onto the ground in the process. “Whoops,” he smirked as the teen cursed under his breath. “Guess you should have stuck it out with me a bit longer – stealth and agility was going to be my next lesson.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you where you can stick…”

“So! Who’s hungry?” Felicity interrupted, clapping her hands together. “Oliver rode me pretty hard so I could probably eat about ten slices of pizza right now, and yes,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I realize where that sentence started and I continue to regret the verbal choices I make on a daily basis.” Grabbing her glasses from their case she put them on and sat down on her swivel chair to look up the online menu. “I think I’m in a pepperoni kind of mood.”

“Sounds good,” said Oliver, watching Roy join her at the computers. “Hey Digg, can I have a word with you about that… work thing from yesterday?”

Folding his arms, Diggle sauntered over to the staircase where Oliver was storing the mat underneath. “Work thing, huh?” he smiled. “I can see your lying prowess is just getting better with age.”

Mirroring his friend’s stance, Oliver cast a quick glance towards their blonde colleague before looking back at Diggle in concern. “I’m worried about Felicity,” he murmured.

“What happened?” Diggle replied, his amusement fading. “Is she OK?”

“I didn’t realize how serious she was about learning how to fight,” Oliver admitted with a frown. “She keeps talking like she’s ready to run into battle with the rest of us. And I know she’s strong-willed and determined,” he conceded, “but that’s nowhere near the same as having military training, or Mirakuru…”

“Or having an island kick your ass six ways till Sunday,” Diggle agreed. “If you think about it though, Oliver, the last major person we all dealt with was…”

“William Tockman,” Oliver finished, the realization dawning on him. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “I’m an idiot,” he sighed. “She was just so proud of that damn scar that I didn’t...” He shook his head. “Why couldn’t Felicity just say something to me about it? To us?”

Diggle chuckled, earning a reproachful look from his friend. “Yeah, because we’re all so forthcoming with our feelings down here,” he said, giving Oliver a pointed look. “Knowing Felicity, she wouldn’t have wanted to worry anyone. But maybe you should use your new living situation to your advantage and get her to open up without the rest of us around?”

“Good idea,” Oliver nodded.

“How’s all that going anyway?” Diggle asked, looking over to where Felicity and Roy were arguing loudly over the pros and cons of anchovies. “Is she as scary as she claims to be before her morning coffee?”

Huffing out a small laugh, Oliver smiled. “It’s been pretty civilized. She’s always up and dressed and ready to go before I’ve even blinked. If I didn’t know any better I’d say she sleeps in her work clothes.”

“Maybe she’s just playing the polite houseguest card,” Diggle suggested, elaborating off Oliver’s puzzled reaction. “I know it’s not entirely the same circumstances, but Lyla and I were like that in the beginning. Keeping things nice, not letting our true personalities shine through. Before long, though, I was back in my favorite sweatshirt with the food stains and Lyla wore her old Bon Jovi t-shirt to bed.”

“I like Bon Jovi.”

Diggle raised his eyebrows in a ‘yeah, you would’ fashion. “My point is that Felicity might not exactly feel comfortable about _making_ herself comfortable.”

“I’ll talk to her about that too,” Oliver said decisively. “The last thing I want is for her to feel like she can’t be herself.” The two men turned to head back to the rest of the team. “Seriously though, not even _Livin’ On A Prayer_?”

“Now you’re just offending me, man.”

* * *

“… All I’m saying is there’s a pecking order you’d be expected to follow if you were part of that group,” said Oliver, waiting for Felicity to step out of the elevator and into the penthouse. “Otherwise there’d be chaos.”

Felicity toed off her red pumps, lining them up neatly against the wall. “But that just brings me back to my main point: who set the order in the first place?” She placed her tablet next to Oliver’s briefcase on the coffee table. “Was it a matter of just blindly respecting your elders? Was there a vote taken? How does it all work?”

“Let’s be honest,” said Oliver, as they walked side-by-side to the kitchen, “who would you trust more to lead you? Someone whose name has connotations with a doctor, or some guy who can’t even tie his shoelaces?”

Leaning her body across the island bench, Felicity pouted her lips in thought. “Did Dopey even have shoes with laces? Maybe the poor guy would have stood a chance if the Enchanted Forest opened up a Crocs store.” She cracked a smile as Oliver quietly chuckled to himself. “What? These are very important things to consider,” she teased.

“I’m just wondering how I ended up spending the entire ride home debating leadership issues between the Seven Dwarfs.” He opened the refrigerator, taking out two bottles of water and handing one to Felicity.

“Because it was a thousand times more interesting than discussing our work meeting with Martin Kaufman,” she reminded him, unscrewing the lid, “aka Mr Grumpy and Sleepy himself.”

Oliver dropped his head back, groaning in renewed irritation. “I don’t understand how one man can suck so much life out of a room. I know the company needs new investors, but if he’s the best we can do then we’re in trouble.” 

“Don’t worry I’m already researching other people all hush-hush,” said Felicity, taking a sip of her water. “That way we’ll get a head start and actually be able to hire someone who doesn’t have the personality of a house plant.”

“See?” smiled Oliver, loosening his tie and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. “This is why you’re the Doc of the group.”

“Guess we’d better buy you a pair of Crocs then, huh?” Felicity said innocently, standing up straight to check her watch. “It’s still kind of early. I was thinking about watching a movie in your fancy-pants theater if you wanted to join me?”

Oliver rolled his shoulders, attempting to work through a kink that had been lingering for a few days. “I don’t know, I should probably head out at some stage.”

“Come on, a couple of hours won’t hurt,” she replied. “Besides, it’ll do your body the world of good to have some rest. I could feel how tense you were when you were on top of me today.” She paused, screwing up her nose. “Let’s just imagine that came out less suggestively shall we?”

The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to renege on the offer. “I can’t really afford to take a night off.”

Felicity flashed him her most beguiling grin. “I’ll make popcorn,” she sang out. “Or whatever it is you treat yourself with these days,” she added as an afterthought. “Protein shakes? A cup of air? _Kale chips_?”

He watched her make a face like she was offended by the very notion and smiled. “Popcorn’s fine,” he said, relishing in her surprise that he’d changed his mind. “Do I at least get to choose the film if I stay?”

“Nope. And we’re going to need more snacks than just popcorn if we’re going to do this thing right.” Felicity opened the freezer and looked around before gasping in delight. “Oh my God, I have been craving this all day,” she exclaimed, taking out a tub of mint choc-chip ice cream. “Don’t tell me you have Skittles hidden around somewhere too?”

Oliver opened the cupboard above his head and took out a large bag of candy, presenting it to her with an air of smugness.

“You’re officially my favorite person,” she sighed happily.

“I wasn’t before?”

“It was a close race between you and Kit Harington but we won’t let him know you’ve won the throne.”

* * *

Oliver sank into the black leather double recliner, listening to Felicity mutter under her breath as she searched through the large shelf of DVDs. “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl on his lap. “You’ve got your ‘how many times do I have to fix the printer for you?’ face on.”

“First of all, you should know by now not to jam in so much paper,” she retorted, trailing her finger along the DVD spines. “And second of all, if we’re cataloguing expressions then this is my ‘you own far too many Sylvester Stallone movies’ face.” Felicity folded her arms with a sigh. “I should have brought my hard drive with me.”

“You can grab it if you like. I’ll wait.”

“Yeah you might be waiting quite a while since it’s in storage with the rest of my stuff.” She smiled ruefully, leaning over to grab some popcorn.

Oliver contemplated her. “We should make a trip there tomorrow,” he suggested as she put a few kernels in her mouth. “I know you must be missing having your own belongings around.”

“No don’t be silly,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. “This is just a short stopover remember? I’ll find an apartment soon and be out of your hair in no time.”

“Felicity…” He placed the bowl beside him and got up to stand next to her at the shelf. “You don’t have to treat this place like a hotel you know.”

She smiled up at him. “Except for the fact that it’s so swanky that it _could_ be a hotel.”

“But it’s also a home.” He put his hands into his pockets, glancing at the rows of movies. “Or at least I’m trying to make it into one. And I want you to feel comfortable here too.”

“Oliver I am comfortable.”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “You’ve still got your work outfit on. What happened to the girl who’d glare at me when we had to stay at the foundry late because her ‘fluffy robe and cow slippers’ were calling her name?”

Felicity’s cheeks dimpled as she grinned. “You remember me mentioning my embarrassing cow footwear but not the multitude of times I’ve hassled you about the printer?”

“It’s a honed skill,” he teased. “All I’m saying is that I was promised dirty dishes lying around the place and so far I’ve only seen my own.”

“You may live to regret that reminder,” she said, giving him a soft poke in the chest. “Although it _has_ been killing me putting things in the dishwasher all efficient-like. I felt like I was back living at my grandmother’s place.”

“Just what a guy wants to hear,” he smirked.

She laughed, ducking her head. “OK, I’ll try my best not to be so Stepford Wife and more normal wife.” Her eyes widened. “Or, y’know, just normal person in a non-wife-like capacity… Hey, why don’t we watch this one?” She grabbed the nearest DVD, opening the case to take out the disc.

Oliver ran a hand across the back of his neck, feeling a slight flush underneath. “I thought you were steering clear of all things Stallone?” he said, looking at the empty Rocky case she’d cast aside on the shelf.

“He has his moments,” she quickly replied, fiddling around with the DVD player before settling into her side of the recliner. “Who knows, maybe I’ll pick up a new move or two for our next training session.”

“About that...” Joining her on the seat, Oliver cast a cautious glance out the corner of his eye. “How are you feeling, Felicity?”

“Right now?” she asked, keeping her gaze on the screen. “Like I probably shouldn’t have inhaled half a bag of candy already.”

“No I mean…” he gestured toward the general vicinity of her injured shoulder blade, “how are you after everything that happened with Tockman?” Oliver frowned when he noticed her flinch at the name. “We never really got a proper chance to talk about what happened to you.”

Felicity turned to her friend with a painted-on smile. “I’m fine,” she replied, sighing when Oliver cocked his head to the side in disbelief. “OK, so maybe not _fine_ fine, but on a scale of one to fine I’m definitely at the higher end.”

“Getting shot is a pretty big deal. Don’t discount that.”

“Oh I’m not, trust me.” She slid her hand over her back to where Tockman’s bullet clipped her. “It was way more traumatic than getting my wisdom teeth out. But I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.” She sensed Oliver’s body tense up next to her and dropped her arm to rest her hand on his. “I know it’s not something you want to hear but I’m serious, Oliver. I’d take a bullet for any one of you because I know you’d all do the same for me.”

Oliver nodded silently, giving her hand a squeeze. “It wouldn’t even take a heartbeat,” he said softly. “And the training’s honestly helping?”

“It is. I’m not doing it because I’m afraid; I’m doing it because it makes me feel empowered.” His thumb traced a light pattern over her knuckles making her skin tingle. “And I want to keep embracing that motivation.”

He looked at her fondly. “You’re pretty remarkable, you know that?”

“So you keep remarking,” she said, smiling back at him. The volume increased on the TV as the start menu appeared and Felicity sheepishly untangled her hand, reaching for the popcorn bowl instead. “Want some?” she offered.

“I’d better,” he replied. “Someone nearly ate all my Skittles.”

* * *

The next morning Oliver entered the kitchen after his workout to find Felicity sitting on the kitchen bench with her cup of coffee, eating the last spoonfuls of her cereal. He grinned as he took her in from head (messy bun, mismatched pajamas) to toe (cow-slippered feet swinging in the air) and gave her a satisfied nod of approval.

Smirking, Felicity hopped off the bench and left her dishes near the sink, gracing him with an exaggerated curtsey before heading off for a shower.

* * *

“Hey there,” greeted Sara, pulling out the chair on the other side of Felicity’s desk. “You almost ready?”

Felicity glanced up from her tablet. “Hey!” Her expression clouded in confusion. “Wait, ready for what?”

“Apartment hunting on your break?” Sara raised an eyebrow. “You asked me yesterday at Verdant if I wanted to come with you? Told me I could bring out some Canary persuasion if need be?”

“Oh my God I totally forgot,” Felicity groaned, smacking her hand to her forehead.

“Don’t tell me I came all the way into QC for nothing,” she teased. “You’re taking me away from a very important day of cleaning glassware at the bar.”

“No, no, we’re still going.” Felicity fixed up the papers on her desk and switched off her tablet. “I was just up half the night with Oliver and it completely slipped my mind. Not in _that_ kind of way,” she stammered, holding out a finger to quieten Sara’s peal of laughter. “We were watching some movies.”

“That’s nice,” smiled Sara, waiting for the other blonde to shrug on her coat. “I’m glad he’s taking a moment to relax. I mean it’s not like I’m the poster child for being Zen or anything, but I’ve been worried about how hard he’s been pushing himself lately.”

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Felicity breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, then it’s just not me overreacting then.” They headed for the elevator. “He’s been getting way too many injuries lately, even for his line of work.”

“I’ve tried to talk to him about it but he just gives me that look,” frowned Sara. “You know the one?”

Felicity leant back against the steel bar, nodding. “Yeah, the ‘my name is Oliver ‘Manpain’ Queen and I’d prefer to be trapped in a glass case of emotion than share’ look.”

“That’s the one.” Sara scuffed her leather boot against the floor. “He might actually listen to you if you really prod him, though.” She smiled as Felicity snorted at her. “Seriously, I’ve seen the subtle changes in him when you’re around. It’s like you’re the horse whisperer for world-weary vigilantes.”

Felicity felt the heat rise in her cheeks as the elevator doors opened on the ground floor. “I think you’re talking crazy talk… but I guess it can’t hurt to give it a go.” They exited the building and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, Felicity holding the side of her stomach with a grimace.

“Are you OK?” said Sara, grabbing her friend’s arm in concern.

“Yeah, I’ve just been eating way too much junk lately and I think my body is retaliating,” she replied, breathing out slowly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just guzzle a bottle of Pepto-Bismol for lunch.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to?”

Felicity shook her head. “No, I’d rather be out of the office anyway. Oliver’s in a meeting with Isabel and she’s making me uncomfortable.”

“How? Do I need to go all Canary on her instead?”

She smiled as they pushed their way through the crowds. “Not at the moment. But she actually acknowledged me with a smile earlier and I thought she was having a stroke.” Felicity broke into a bigger grin when she heard Sara chuckle. “I’m serious, I didn’t know she could emote. I had my hand poised to dial 911.”

“You’d better watch out,” Sara warned her with a sparkle in her eye. “She might want to have a whole conversation with you next time.”

Felicity shuddered. “Then someone else better get ready to call an ambulance because I’ll knock myself out first.”

* * *

Thumbing through unwanted rental applications, Felicity thanked the doorman as she made her way into Oliver’s building later that evening. Her apartment hunting hadn’t been much of a success as she found flaws in nearly every place. Sara had thought she was being too picky but Felicity knew what she was after and it wasn’t anything she’d traipsed through today. Hearing the elevator ding, Felicity was about to step inside when she nearly got run over by a cart.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there, miss.”

Felicity looked up from her papers to see Benny the chef glancing back at her with an apologetic expression. “Oh, hi there! My God, don’t even worry about it I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going anyway.” She mimed lifting up her tablet. “No blunt weaponry will be aimed your way in retaliation, I assure you.” They smiled at one another as she waited for him to wheel his cart aside. “Were you just upstairs?”

“Yes miss,” said Benny. “Mr Queen contacted us about extra supplies so I was re-stocking the kitchen.”

“That’d probably be my fault too,” she winced. “Hopefully you brought some more ice-cream with you though.”

“We haven’t catered for any ice-cream. Mr Queen must have purchased that himself.” He gave her another bright smile. “Well I best be off, miss. I need to finish a few more deliveries.”

“Right, of course!” Felicity jumped into the waiting elevator and gave him a wave. “It was good to see you again… and not scream in horror at you.”

Benny waited for the doors to close before the pleasantness disappeared from his face. He took out his phone and tapped out a message ( _Six more planted. Nearly got sprung. When exactly am I off the hook?_ ) before scurrying away with his cart.

* * *

The penthouse was encased in darkness by the time Oliver arrived home from his patrolling of The Glades. He sucked in a harsh breath as he bent down to take off his shoes, his shoulder still giving him grief after aggravating it further. He was about to tiptoe upstairs when he noticed a person-shaped lump lying on the sofa. Moving in closer he saw Felicity fast asleep, tablet and laptop strewn on the floor, with one of his suit jackets wrapped around her to keep warm.

“Felicity,” he whispered, giving her arm a gentle shake. “Felicity wake up.” She made a few indecipherable sounds so he bent down to caress her shoulder. “I broke the printer again,” he said a bit louder, smirking when she startled awake.

Blinking to readjust to the dim light, Felicity took a hand out from under the jacket to rub at her eyes. “That’s an extremely mean way to wake an IT girl up,” she mumbled. “What time is it anyway?”

“Nearly two-thirty in the morning. You should probably head upstairs where it’s warmer.”

She nodded blearily, sitting up and letting the jacket fall to the side. “Sorry about crinkling your clothes but your place severely lacks comfy sofa blankets.”

“I’ll look into it,” he smiled, moving back so they could both stand up.

“You should. I used to have an awesome one back in my apartment.” Felicity yawned, stretching out her back. “I’ll clean all of that junk up in the morning,” she promised, waving a hand at her computers. “I was looking up more investors.”

Oliver shone his phone ahead of them for some light as they made their way to the bedrooms. “Anyone good?”

“John Pearson and Ingrid Butler,” she replied, stifling another yawn. “But I’ll let you take a peek in the morning.” They padded through the long hallway. “I looked at some apartments today too.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Did you find anything?”

She shook her head. “Nothing really felt right to me. I might look at some more on the weekend if I have time.”

“I can come with you again if you like.” He paused outside of her bedroom. “I’ve been working on my British accent,” he added solemnly.

Felicity laughed as she opened her door. “I’m kind of partial to the French guy myself.” She leant against the frame with a soft smile. “Goodnight, Jean-Luc.”

“Bonsoir,” he smirked.

“Show-off.”

* * *

Felicity hummed to herself as she made coffee in the kitchen the next morning, turning on her phone after leaving it on the bench last night. She brought the mug to her lips, nearly choking on the hot liquid when she saw what was sitting in her email account. Eyes widening, she clicked on the different alerts she’d set up connected to Oliver’s name, all of them leading to various gossip blogs. _Assistant pregnant with Oliver Queen’s lovechild!_ one headline screamed. _Oliver Queen’s baby-mama doesn’t look so Smoak-en hot!_ said another. Felicity groaned as a photo of her and Sara appeared – she was leaving a drug store, one hand on her stomach and the other clutching a paper bag of her concealed Pepto-Bismol.

“What the hell are they playing at now?” she muttered, racing out of the kitchen and into the living room. Too engrossed in her phone, she tripped over her laptop where she’d left it near the sofa, toppling over the side table in her hasty decline to the ground. “I’m going to have more scars than I know what to do with,” she moaned, sitting up and rubbing her knee. 

She reached for her tablet and clicked it on to get a better look at the articles, her expression ranging from annoyed to concerned when she realised the text mentioned how she’d been having pregnancy cravings for Skittles and Lucky Charms. “OK that’s either some freaky coincidence or…” he heart dropped when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye near a broken vase from the table.

“Felicity are you alright?” Oliver’s voice rang out as he hastily thundered down the stairs. “I thought I heard a crash and…” he paused briefly at her sprawled on the floor, before racing over. “What happened?” he asked, holding onto her shoulder. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine but the _baby_ might not be,” she bit out.

“… Excuse me?”

She turned her tablet around to show him the blog pages. “Congratulations, Oliver, it’s a Gossip Girl.”

Opening and shutting his mouth a few times, Oliver eventually sat down on the sofa. “I’m so sorry this is happening again, Felicity.”

“Trust me, the articles are the least of our worries,” she replied. “It’s the scarily accurate details of conversations we’ve had in this very penthouse that are disturbing me right now.”

“Wait, what?” he said in alarm. “How did they…”

Felicity held up her hand and uncurled her fist where she’d been cradling a small black device. “We’ve been bugged.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Second upstairs sweep is done,” announced Felicity, entering the kitchen where Oliver and Diggle had placed the surveillance tech the three of them had found and promptly deactivated. “The hallway, office and two bedrooms were still the only spaces hit. All clear down here?”

Diggle nodded. “We ended up with twelve pieces altogether, mainly audio.” He picked up one of the bugs with a gloved hand to inspect. “I thought the paparazzi thrived on their incriminating _images_?”

“The sound could be incriminating enough,” said Oliver sullenly. “If we spoke about anything Arrow-related then all hell’s going to break loose. Not to mention what the local law enforcement will have to say.” He closed his eyes and tried not to sigh. “Lance is going to kill me isn’t he?”

“I don’t think you’ll have to wear your ‘I’m the Hood, ask me how!’ button just yet,” said Felicity, pulling back a chair to sit down. “I’ve been trying to remember all of our chit-chat in here and I think we’ve been pretty good at keeping the foundry shop talk at the shop.”

“Except for William Tockman,” Oliver reminded her gently, but he was happy to note that the name didn’t affect her as much as it had previously.

“True, but that was in the theater which was thankfully bug-free… alas sadly not Stallone-free,” she remarked, opening her laptop to start searching for more mentions of them in the news. “I just think that if there was anything truly salacious recorded about your night-time activities then it would have been published already. That’s probably why they went with the pregnancy angle.”

“Initiated by a night-time activity in its own right it would seem,” noted Digg, responding to his colleagues’ withering stares with an innocent look.

Felicity scrolled through more links. “You’re lucky this child isn’t real or Uncle John would definitely be on diaper duty,” she muttered.

“We should try and track down whatever data was collated from the gear, just to be sure,” said Oliver, taking a seat across from Felicity. “And I’ll need to change the passcode for the elevator too.”

Diggle rested against the island bench. “Who else has access to the code besides us?”

“The hotel manager,” Oliver mused, “a few cleaners, the family chefs…”

The sound of keyboard clicking stopped as Felicity gaped at him. “Oh my God, it must have been _Benny_ ,” she exclaimed. “I ran into him in the foyer last night because he said he was dropping off more food supplies. But I’m guessing you never asked for an extra delivery did you?” She contorted her face in disgust as Oliver shook his head. “Ugh! That sneaky, untrustworthy, polite bastard!”

“Looks like we’ll be paying him a little visit this morning,” said Oliver. “Felicity can you bring up his home address please; last name Hendrix.”

“Done and done,” she replied, locating the information and syncing it up to her phone for the GPS coordinates. “Just to be clear,” she said, as Oliver stood, “this isn’t a ‘go in with arrows blazing’ visit, right? More like an ‘Oliver Queen is not amused’ type thing?”

“If we have to use a name then yes, the second one.” He took out a container from one of the drawers and swept the bugs into it. “Less chance of arousing suspicions that way.”

“Speaking of,” Diggle piped up, “when I got here earlier there were a crowd of photographers camped outside the hotel waiting for you two ‘lovebirds’ to emerge from your nest.” He fished around in his pocket for his keys. “Is there another way out of here where I can meet you with the car?”

Oliver frowned in thought. “If we weren’t in daylight we could have used a zip line from the roof.”

“Yeah, great idea,” Felicity laughed as she packed up her computer, her smile fading when Oliver’s expression didn’t change. “Hang on, you were actually serious weren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She opened her mouth to respond but quickly changed her mind. “You know what? Nevermind. Far be it for me to argue with a superhero about his mode of transportation.” She walked out of the kitchen with the men following.

“… I guess we could go via the staff entryway,” Oliver’s voice said from behind her.

Felicity affectionately rolled her eyes at his dejected tone. “If you’re good I’ll jump off a building with you another time, OK?”

* * *

The cracking sound of bamboo sticks locked in combat met the trio’s ears as they made their way down the foundry stairs a few hours later. Sara and Roy lowered their weapons, putting a halt on their workout to welcome Oliver and Felicity with a smattering of applause.

“I hear congratulations are in order, mom and dad,” said Sara, swapping a smirk with Diggle as the ‘parents’ in question sighed in unison. “Do you know what you’re having yet?”

“Whatever it is I hope it gets Blondie’s IQ level,” said Roy, wiping a slick of sweat off his forehead as Oliver glowered at him. “And your sunshine-fuelled personality of course,” he mocked, twirling the bamboo at him with a flourish.

Oliver rewarded him with a sarcastic smile before effortlessly knocking the stick out of Roy’s hands.

“Who needs fake children when we’re already running a day-care center right here?” stated Felicity, taking a seat in front of her computers.

Sara plonked herself on the desk, glancing at the grey flash drive Felicity took out of her purse. “Where have you been anyway? Playing hide and seek from the paparazzi?”

“We were also tracking down the asshole who bugged us,” said Oliver, pulling up a chair to join them. 

“Turns out it wasn’t the butler who did it,” said Felicity, plugging in the USB. “More like Benny the personal chef, in the penthouse kitchen with the surveillance gear.”

“Did he just confess outright?” asked Roy, slipping his shirt back over his head.

Diggle snorted. “Not exactly. We discovered that Felicity here is pretty good at playing bad cop when the situation calls for it.”

“You don’t screw with the WiFi puppet master,” Felicity boasted before fighting off a shiver. “Unless the puppets turn out to be those creepy ventriloquist dolls. Or marionettes, they’re nightmare-inducing too.” She cringed. “Can I change my ranking and be the WiFi ringmaster instead?”

Oliver placed a hand on her shoulder. “If you keep getting results like today you can be whatever you like,” he said with an entertained smile. 

“So what _was_ Benny’s deal?” asked Sara. “Career criminal or one-off douchebag?”

Felicity clicked through a few of the labelled folders stored on the device. “Well after my threats he sang like a canary.” She threw an apologetic glance at her friend. “Sorry. Do you get that a lot? You must get that a lot. Anyway,” she continued, “we found out that our chef had been cooking up some pretty nasty debts, so he was offered this job as a way to repay them.”

“Did you get a name out of him?” said Roy.

“He was dealing with someone via text that he only knew as ‘X’ – _original_ ,” Oliver sniffed in contempt. “Mr or Mrs X had already told him to delete all messages and decimate the phone, so that was a dead end.”

Sara furrowed her eyebrows. “But then why didn’t he destroy the USB evidence too?”

“Benny swears black and blue that this mysterious X person must have planted it in his apartment after I showed him where I found it,” Diggle replied. “Felicity thinks it might be someone who has links to the _Starling Whispers_ gossip website since they seem to have all the exclusives.”

“And also just because I really hate their name,” said Felicity, copying the audio and visual files to the hard drive. “I mean are you a blog or a feminine hygiene product?”

Sara and Felicity swapped a bemused look at the uncomfortable silence that settled over the men of the lair. “So what’s the plan now?” Sara asked, readily passing her bamboo stick from hand to hand. “Anything we need to suit up for?”

“We already gave Benny over to your dad for an official chat, so hopefully he’ll dig up more clues,” said Felicity. “And as for the gossip blogs, well they’re about to get a hacking of a lifetime.”

“Sounds kinky,” mused Roy.

Peering at the audio files onscreen, Oliver took the mouse from Felicity and clicked on one, wincing when his voice filtered through the speakers. _“Felicity you should probably stop staring at it.”_

_“I’m trying but it’s just… how is it so big?”_

_“It’s not_ that _big.”_

_“Oliver I’ve seen a few in my time and trust me, the width alone is…”_

The conversation promptly cut out as Oliver and Felicity both scrambled to click the pause button, but the rest of the team were already struggling to compose themselves. 

“I stand corrected,” said Roy, the corners of his mouth twitching. “ _That_ sounds kinky.”

“And _extremely_ out of context,” Felicity stammered, holding a hand to her neck where she could feel the heat of a blush emerging.

Oliver shot an exasperated look at his so-called friends. “There was a cockroach in the kitchen one morning, that’s _all_ ,” he explained.

“I think we just found tomorrow’s big news story,” said Diggle, as Sara dramatically clutched his arm.

“Hang on a sec, don’t be too hasty, Digg,” she replied in mock protest. “It’s not _that_ big, remember?”

Felicity sank further into her chair as her three colleagues traded more quips, glancing at Oliver who gave her a wry smile. “Would it be bad if we spiked all their coffees with Tibetan snake venom?” she said under her breath.

“It would be worse if we didn’t do it immediately,” he muttered in response, smirking at her snort of laughter. “Although we should probably comb through all these audio files first,” he said, holding back a sigh at the gargantuan task. “We could all take turns or…”

“Or we could remember that we live in a technology enhanced world where computers are our friends,” Felicity teased, bringing up a program on the screen as the rest of the team tuned in to what they were doing. “This little guy here is a voice recognition tool, so all we have to do is make a recording of ourselves saying key words like ‘vigilante’ and ‘Arrow’ and…”

“Big?” Roy supplied helpfully, quickly ducking away from a projectile sailing towards his head.

“ _Any_ words that may send us up a certain creek without a paddle,” said Felicity, putting back her box of paperclip missiles. “Then the program will scan through all the files and alert us of any matches.”

“Sounds good,” said Oliver, nodding approvingly. “I should do some damage control at my mother’s campaign rally this evening, too,” he added, absently drumming his fingers on the desk. “Maybe release a statement to the press dismissing the pregnancy rumor.”

Felicity bumped his knee with hers in solidarity. “Two fun things to look forward to now,” she said sympathetically as he gave her a small smile in return.

“The Canary and the Arrow should be seen in public while Ollie’s busy as well,” Sara suggested. “That way he can have an alibi just in case the audio files pick up on something.”

“I’ll volunteer,” said Roy, raising his hand. “How hard can it really be?” He glanced at Oliver’s costume in the lit-up cabinet. “Although how do you run in those leather pants, dude? That’s gotta chafe.”

Oliver stared at him before turning his head to look at Diggle. “So you’re on Arrow duty, yeah?”

“Was there ever any doubt?” replied Digg. “We can check out some criminal hotspots for tonight on the other computer,” he said to Sara, smirking when he heard Roy muttering under his breath. “You can come along too, Harper.”

“Maybe you should change into some yoga pants, though,” said Sara casually, as the three of them moved to the other side of the lair. “We can’t have you feeling uncomfortable while you’re protecting the city now can we?”

Chuckling at Roy’s complaining ( _“Just so you know, I hate everyone”_ ), Felicity focused her attention back onto her task. “You ready to do some recording?” she asked Oliver.

“Yeah. I just wish we had the original source data as well,” he replied with a frown. “There’s no way in hell other copies weren’t made.”

“At least we have _something_ to go on. And once we get confirmation that no beans were spilt and everything’s fine – because I know it will be – then we won’t have to worry.” She pointed towards the microphone with a smile. “I’ll get you to do a test run to make sure everything’s working OK. Just babble anything – otherwise known as my life’s motto.”

He leaned in towards the device and paused for a moment, before the corners of his mouth curled up. “Sometimes the leather does chafe,” he admitted seriously into the mic as Felicity choked on a laugh. 

* * *

The kitchen table was covered with an array of paper as Felicity scrolled her tablet with one hand, while the other shoved a forkful of fried rice into her mouth. She gave Oliver a nod of greeting when he arrived home, noting the way he was rubbing at his temples. “I didn’t expect you back for another hour,” she said, swallowing the last bit of her food. “Was the rally that uninspiring?”

“More so the company,” said Oliver tiredly, loosening his tie. “Playing happy families with my mom in front of the cameras wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to spend the evening. It didn’t help that the pregnancy rumors made her think back to…” Oliver sighed, shaking his head “Nevermind.” He took a fork out of the cutlery drawer and walked over to Felicity, digging into the takeaway container of beef and black bean. “Smells good.”

“Please, help yourself,” she teased as he settled on the chair beside her. “I was going to have whatever was prepared in the fridge but everything would just taste like traitorous lies now.”

“That’d definitely be an interesting flavor.”

“I should market it to some frozen yogurt shops,” she said thoughtfully, biting into a prawn cracker. 

“Did we end up getting a result from the audio?” he asked, licking some sauce from his bottom lip.

Felicity brightened. “All clear! Well, almost all clear,” she clarified, dismissing his slight alarm with a wave of her hand. “It’s OK, it’s just a few vague mentions here and there of our night time work, but it all can be explained away if need be, thank God.” She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I also got some promising news from Mr Lance.”

“Did he manage to get more information out of Benny?”

“Not quite,” she said, scrolling through the memo pad on her phone where she’d jotted down some dot points. “They did some investigating at the _Starling Whispers_ HQ,” she paused, breaking into a chuckle, “OK now I’m thinking it sounds more like a really posh horse riding school run by someone called Bryndolyn Weathersby and…” Felicity cleared her throat when she noticed Oliver raising an eyebrow at her. “Wow, super side-tracked.”

“The cops investigated and…” Oliver prompted kindly.

“Right, and they found all of our files on the deputy editor’s computer, who eventually confessed to being our not-so-mysterious person X,” she finished with a grin. “I’m still going to keep hacking the living daylights out of their site, though, just on principle.”

“I’d be worried if you didn’t.”

She took a sip of her soda. “How’d the ‘there’s no bun in anyone’s oven’ part of your night work out?”

Oliver chewed his food, giving her a half-shrug. “About as well as any of these press things go. I said my piece, the journalists only heard what they wanted and tried to harass me for more information, so I dropped the mic and left.”

“Dropped the mic?” she laughed. “Settle down, 8 Mile.”

With a smirk, Oliver reached over to exchange his container for the box of rice when he registered what all of the paperwork was strewn across the table. “Rental applications?” he queried, trying to hide his disappointment. “I didn’t think you’d found anything suitable?”

“I did and I didn’t,” she said evasively, hastily scooping everything up and putting it into a messy pile away from Oliver. “But I figure it can’t hurt to apply. I mean yeah, in one place I swear there were a family of raccoons living in the walls but that’s a great talking point for dinner parties if I’ve ever heard one.”

Oliver watched her smooth her fingers across the dent in the table. “Please don’t tell me you think you have to do this because of what happened today.”

She stilled her movement, giving him a tight smile. “Did you know I was in a musical back in high school? Total disaster from beginning to end as you could imagine.”

He forehead creased in confusion. “What?”

“Well you said ‘don’t tell me this is because of today’ so I decided to tell you something else instead to take your mind off it. Which obviously didn’t work,” she added with a cringe, “because you’re making that face where you’re about to draw out my name into a thousand syllables.”

“ _Fe-li_ …” Oliver stopped himself before her point was made. “I thought we already discussed this the other night? There’s no expiration date on you staying here no matter what’s going on.” A sudden thought struck him. “Unless… you want to leave of course and I’m just making things worse,” he said uncertainly.

Her heart clenched at the troubled look on his face. “You’re not making things worse,” she replied, offering him a genuine smile. “I’m actually enjoying living here, privacy breaches notwithstanding. I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You could never be a burden. And I enjoy having you here too,” he said, returning her smile.

“So I guess we’re still roomies for a while then.”

“Yep…” He sank back into his chair with a smug look. “On one condition.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to make me sing a song from the musical aren’t you?”

* * *

Queen Consolidated was mostly empty in the late hour, aside from the usual security guards and a brunette woman working diligently at her desk alongside her assistant. She thumbed through a stack of files ( _Butler, I_ printed on one, _Pearson, J_ on another), glancing up at the young businessman before her. “Did you type up the brief to Mr Wilson as I asked?”

“Yes, Ms Rochev,” the man nodded, sliding a manila folder over to her with the brief stapled inside.

Isabel took the papers out and skim-read them, shaking her head slightly at a few paragraphs. “Reduce the amount of attention given to the closeness between Mr Queen and the blonde.”

“You don’t think he’ll be interested?”

“Oh he will be, that’s the problem,” Isabel replied, pursing her lips in contempt. “The last thing I need is for Slade to take on a crusade that’s already mine. I have other plans in mind for our dear Ms Smoak.”

Her assistant leaned in conspiratorially. “I take it things are still on track now that we had the deputy editor take the fall? Mr Queen still believes the paparazzi were to blame for everything?”

She arched an eyebrow in muted amusement. “He does. It was quite the well-thought-out distraction if I do say so myself.” Isabel ran her eyes over some information she’d highlighted on the top file. “Mr Wilson acquired the trial surveillance run he needed, and I have extra ammunition to forge ahead with my plans for this company.” 

“It’s about time Mr Queen stepped down.”

Isabel’s mouth curled into an icy smile. “Do you know what my favorite part is?” She picked up a red pen, scratching an X through Oliver’s name on the company stationery. “The poor, idiotic bastard has no idea what true suffering awaits him and the people he cares for most.”

* * *

Oliver leaned contentedly against the open door of the storage unit, arms crossed, as Felicity sorted through her belongings like she was reuniting with long lost friends. “Bring as much stuff back as you want,” he said. 

“Well the comfy sofa blanket is a must,” she replied, pulling it out of a cardboard box. “I still can’t believe you don’t have one of these. They’re so good for snuggling.”

“Is that so?” he asked innocently, strolling over to where she was standing.

“Mmm-hmm.” Felicity folded up the blanket, matching his light-hearted tone. “You should find a snuggle buddy and try it sometime.”

“Maybe I will one day.” 

They regarded each other with shy, contemplative smiles before Felicity turned her head to rummage through another box. “Need that, need that,” she murmured, taking out the items and piling them on top of the bedding in Oliver’s arms. “Oh God, don’t need that,” she said in embarrassment, trying to close the lid.

“Don’t need what?” asked Oliver, setting down his handful of items on a desk. “If it’s another piece of technology then no, you probably don’t,” he teased, as she gave him a mock glare.

Weighing up whether to show him or not, Felicity lifted the cardboard flap and took out a small stuffed bear that had seen better days. “This is Ted. I’ve had him since forever.”

“Ted, huh?”

“It was either that or Donut. If you hadn’t noticed I take my food _pretty_ seriously.” She ran her hand across a patchy tuft of brown fur with a fond look before gently putting it back in storage. “Anyway, the last thing we need right now is for any press to see us with a child’s toy.”

Oliver nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I used to have a blue and grey train set when I was a kid,” he shared, smiling at the memory. “My father brought it back from one of his business trips.”

“What happened to it?”

“I think it’s packed away in the attic of the mansion somewhere,” he frowned. “Or at least I hope it is. I always wanted to pass it onto,” he stopped, giving her a sheepish look.

“To pass it onto your own kid one day?” she filled in with a smile. “I’m sure you will. And a real kid this time… With, like, superior archery skills and a penchant for leaping out of buildings.”

Oliver quirked his lips into a half-hearted smile before ducking his head. “It nearly happened once, becoming a dad,” he admitted quietly, taking a few steps back to sit on the plastic-covered antique couch. “Before the island.” 

Felicity’s mouth parted in surprise as she blinked a few times, absorbing his revelation. “With Laurel?” she asked softly, sitting next to him on the sofa.

He shook his head. “Laurel was around, but it… wasn’t with her,” he said, his voice laced with shame. Felicity didn’t say anything, just waited for him to continue. “The other girl I was with, she lost the baby pretty early on.” Oliver felt a small hand slip into his and clasp it tight.

“I’m sorry, Oliver,” said Felicity, her eyes filled with compassion.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It was a long time ago.” Oliver huffed out a humorless laugh. “And I would have been a terrible dad. I mean, I was a complete idiot back then who could barely take care of himself let alone an infant.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re being too harsh on yourself.”

He shook his head. “I’m not being harsh enough.” Oliver sank his body further into the cushion. “I had no right bringing an innocent kid into my life. I still don’t.”

Felicity could almost feel the hurt radiating off him and shifted her body closer so that she was pressed against his side, her head leaning on his shoulder. “Whenever the topic of your past comes up you’re always quick to tell Digg and I that we wouldn’t have liked the old you.” She glanced up at him. “But sometimes I think you don’t like the new you a lot of the time either. Which is a shame, because you’ve got people in your life who think the absolute _world_ of you.”

Oliver contemplated her, allowing some of the tension to fade away as he took in the openness and truth in her expression.

“You mark my words,” said Felicity. “That train set is going to make one little boy or girl very happy one day.” She smiled, closing her eyes briefly as Oliver pressed a soft kiss to her forehead in a silent thank you, before gripping her hand tighter.

* * *

Felicity was alone in the penthouse a few nights later when she heard a commotion coming from the entryway near the elevator. Wrapping a robe around her pajamas, she rushed out of her bedroom and down the hall towards the stairs, her trusty tablet in hand as a weapon. “Oliver?” she hesitantly called out, her stomach flipping in concern when she heard him painfully grunt her name. Felicity ran the rest of the way, stumbling to a halt when she saw Sara and Roy helping Oliver limp over to the sofa, all of them in their casual clothes. “What _happened_?” she breathed out, making her way to the group. “I thought everyone was out on Team Arrow business?”

“ _Someone_ forgot they weren’t the one injected with Mirakuru and acted like a moron so we had to detour back to the foundry,” Sara replied sternly.

Oliver yanked up the left leg of his pants, hissing in discomfort at the movement. “I thought I could blow out the target’s car tires in time with my arrows,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Wait, you got run _over_?” Felicity exclaimed loudly, perching next to him.

“Not exactly,” said Roy. “He managed to half leap out of the way, so it was more like a really dramatic nudge.”

Felicity reached out her hand to touch Oliver’s leg, wincing at the bruises forming. “Is anything broken?”

“I don’t think so, but his knee is really swollen,” said Sara. “Diggle checked him out as best as he could back at Verdant. Thinks it’s probably a sprain.”

“Maybe we should take you to the hospital just to be sure?” said Felicity, but she already knew what his response would entail.

“I’ll be fine,” Oliver grunted, elevating his leg as gently as he could to rest it on the coffee table. “I’ve had worse things happen to me than getting hit by a car.”

She shook her head in bewilderment. “The crazy part is that I know that’s true.” Tracing her hand over the brace Diggle had applied to Oliver’s knee, Felicity glanced back at her injured roommate. “You do realize now that you’re going to have to rest so this heals right? This is just the icing on top of the injury cake for you lately.” He began to protest but she silenced him with a glare. “I swear to God, Oliver, if you don’t sit your butt down for the next couple of days then I will personally drive a vehicle into your other knee. Do you understand me?”

“Fine,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “Two days _max_ , though,” he added defiantly. “Painkillers and herbs from the island will get me through the rest.”

“Congratulations, Blondie,” Roy said under his breath to Felicity. “You’ve gone from fake baby to babysitting a cranky vigilante for the weekend.”

Felicity dropped her head back with a moan. “Do you think he’ll notice if I dip into his magical island herb stash too? Because I’m going to need something to take away the giant pain in my _ass_.”


	5. Chapter 5

Felicity roamed the upstairs hallway with her morning coffee, stopping when she found the gym and its very sweaty, shirtless inhabitant inside lifting weights on a bench. “Why am I not surprised this is your version of taking it easy?” she sighed, sipping her drink.

“It’s fine, I’m only working on my upper body,” Oliver grunted, the muscles in his abdomen and arms going from taut to smooth with each lift.

“I’ve noticed,” Felicity murmured over the edge of her mug.

His mouth twitched in amusement at the familiar banter. “You mean ‘not noticed’, right?”

“… Right,” she said casually, smirking at his slightly embarrassed laugh. Felicity made herself comfortable on the seat of the rowing machine while Oliver did one last weight repetition before setting it back on the bar. “I seem to remember threatening you with more vehicular-related wounds last night if you didn’t rest,” she said. “Or did you think I was kidding?”

Sitting upright, Oliver untucked his t-shirt from his back pocket and wiped it over his face in lieu of a towel. “I knew you weren’t. That’s why I was hoping I’d be done in here before you woke up.”

“Sneaky, but I’ll allow it.” Felicity stifled a yawn. “I’m probably not one to talk anyway considering I’ve been going through work emails in bed the past half an hour.”

“Anything urgent?”

“Not so much as it turns out, because two of our potential investors cancelled their meetings next week.”

Oliver carefully swung his hurt leg over the padded seat so he was facing her. “That’s disappointing,” he frowned. “Did they say why?”

“Ms Butler mentioned that she’d found another interested party, and Mr Pearson said, well…” her face flushed as Oliver looked at her in confusion. “He said that he didn’t want his company associated with so much ‘frivolous soap opera scandal’.” 

“And here we thought the gossip ripple effect had eased off.” He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I’m sorry this keeps cropping up.”

“Let’s not go down the ‘sorry’ path again, OK?” she said with a wry smile. “Because then I’ll just do the same and we’ll never abandon this mutual apology merry-go-round.” He nodded, gently rubbing his knee over the bandage. “How’s the pain level today?” she asked.

“It’s fine.” He heard her scoff. “It’s manageable,” he amended. “I’ve been here before, it’s nothing to be worried about.”

Felicity shook her head. “The fact that you’re _not_ worried only makes me _more_ worried. You’ve been so blasé with your own safety lately, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

“Felicity I’m…”

“Don’t say fine,” she said quietly. “That word lost all its meaning about twenty injuries ago.” She gazed at him. “Why do you keep pushing yourself so hard?”

He contemplated her before shrugging. “Because I have to.” Felicity opened her mouth to protest but Oliver quickly stood up, shifting the burden to his good leg. “I’m going to have a shower,” he said, limping towards the door.

Holding back a sigh, Felicity nodded. “OK.” She tapped her fingernails against the coffee cup. “So what are our plans for the rest of the day?” she asked, hoping to alleviate the mood. “Movies? Arts and crafts? Or something that involves a blatant disregard for relaxation?”

“Definitely one of those items on the list,” he called back over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

“I’m getting the feeling you’re not talking about making origami swans,” she muttered under her breath. 

* * *

“You owe me ten bucks,” Diggle said, holding out his hand to Sara as they walked into the foundry to discover Oliver and Felicity working at their desks.

Felicity smiled to herself while the other blonde dug a note out of her jeans pocket and slapped it into Diggle’s palm. “How on earth could you bet against Oliver staying away from this place?” she asked, as Sara shrugged off her jacket.

“I didn’t,” said Sara. “I just got the time wrong.”

“There’s no way Oliver would have held out until noon,” said Digg, slipping the note into his wallet. “Rookie mistake,” he smirked.

“Where was I while this wager was taking place, by the way?” asked Felicity, holding her hand over her heart in mock offence. “If anyone knows how tenacious Oliver’s going to be it’s me.”

“How about we call Roy and put him on speaker?” Oliver piped up, swivelling around in his chair. “That way you can _all_ talk about me like I’m not here.”

“Aww,” said Sara. “Are someone’s feelings getting hurt?” she grinned, playfully ruffling his hair. “I just lost ten dollars, if anyone needs sympathy it’s me.”

Rolling his eyes, Oliver put down the arrowhead he’d been adjusting. “Nevermind me being here on a Saturday morning, what’s everyone else’s excuse?” He frowned when Diggle and Sara exchanged a look. “OK, what am I missing out on?”

“We got wind that the group you were after last night are planning another robbery tonight in the city,” said Diggle, settling on the end of Felicity’s desk. “Sara and I were just about to put together a plan of attack.”

“Great, fill me in,” said Oliver, hearing a snort of laughter across the room.

Felicity met his gaze with her own resolute one. “Yeah, there’s no way you’re suiting up tonight, Oliver.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she challenged. “No matter how many miracle herbs you ingest your knee isn’t going to heal properly in half a day. And unless you’ve got a Bachelor of Idiocy with a Masters in Dumbass, you know you need to sit this out too.” Felicity could see the tic in his jaw working overtime as he battled internally with his frustrations. 

“She’s right, Ollie,” Sara agreed. “Me and Digg, we’ve got this covered. You can trust us.”

Oliver exhaled slowly through his nose. “It’s not you I don’t trust,” he muttered, catching a glimpse of concern filtering through Felicity’s stoic demeanour. Resigned, Oliver folded his arms and frowned. “Fine, I won’t do anything physical but I’m still going to be involved in other aspects.”

“Such as?” said Diggle.

He gestured towards Felicity’s cavalcade of computers. “I can help with the research, tech… thing,” he replied somewhat uncertainly. “And Felicity and I will keep a car running outside the building tonight just in case things turn sour.”

“We will?” said Felicity.

“We will,” Oliver nodded, allowing a fragment of his resolution to falter for her. “I’d just be able to ‘relax’ a lot better if I knew everything was going satisfactorily.”

Sensing that this was important to him and he wasn’t just being obstinate for the sake of it, she nodded in support. “Guess we’d better stock up on coffee and donuts then,” she stated, the wrought tension in Oliver’s shoulders diminishing a fraction.

Diggle smiled. “I think that’s more of a stakeout staple. Or a clichéd cop drama.”

“You underestimate my attachment to coffee and donuts, Digg,” Felicity replied. “They’re an everything staple.” She tucked a pen behind her ear and returned her focus to Oliver. “If you were serious about learning more of this ‘tech thing’ – which, by the way, I should get printed on a business card: Felicity Smoak ‘Tech Thing Expert’ – then scoot yourself over here for a quick lesson.”

Complying with Felicity’s request, Oliver carefully shuffled his chair over with his uninjured leg, sliding in to place beside her. “Thanks,” he said, as Diggle and Sara busied themselves with their own tasks. “I just needed to stay in the loop, y’know?”

“I know,” she said. “And it’s not like I’m the boss of you anyway.”

He met her gaze, lips quirking upwards. “You are a little bit.”

“Yeah, I just didn’t want to brag.” She matched his smirk before turning her attention back to the main computer. “So we’re really Freaky Friday-ing this mission, huh? Digg’s taking on your role, we’re taking on his, you’re doing me…” She bit her lip and uneasily gestured in front of her as the phrase lingered around them. “I meant by learning more about computers and what have you.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s just get started, shall we?”

Oliver leaned forward in his chair, ready to concentrate. “Take it away, Professor.”

“Hmm, I like that,” she tilted her head in thought. “I should add it to the business card. Right, first thing’s first – how much computer jargon can you handle?”

“Enough.”

“See, you _say_ that with confidence but your scrunched-up face is telling me otherwise.” Felicity regarded him in amusement. “I’m totally going to have my own ‘How To Train Your Dragon’ moment aren’t I?”

“I’m not completely useless you know,” he replied, pretending to take offense. “I handled this side of things in a reasonable manner before you and Digg came along.”

Felicity arched an eyebrow. “Is that so? Because I seem to remember upgrading your whole sorry system my first trip here.” She bent her body towards his conspiratorially. “You probably used the Microsoft paperclip to help you back in the day, didn’t you?” Felicity laughed while he gaped at her, horrified. 

“There is a line,” he said, pointing at her accusingly. “And you just trampled all over it.”

She held up her hands in surrender, biting her bottom lip in a struggle with her own amusement. “OK, fine, I’ll admit you’ve got the basics covered,” she said, lowering her arms to resume typing. “But you’re only part way there. It’s like, I don’t know, you’ve shown up for a date and not brought any wine.”

Oliver slid his chair closer to the desk so he could concentrate on the screen, the armrest nudging against Felicity’s. “I never forget the wine,” he contested.

“Whatever, you forgot flowers then,” she retorted playfully. “Or yeah, sure, you booked a nice restaurant…”

“Italian,” he offered.

She smiled, keeping her eyes on the screen. “But just when you think you’re really clever you realize you left your wallet at home and you can’t go Dutch.” She picked up a paperclip from her stationery supplies and bounced it around in front of him. “It looks like you’re crashing and burning on a date – would you like any help?”

Oliver fought back a laugh. “I may be rusty but I’d like to think I’m not that lousy,” he said, his arm lightly brushing against hers. “My wooing skills are certainly better than my IT expertise at any rate.” He paused, smiling at the twinkling in her eyes. “What?”

“Did you just say _wooing_?” she grinned, letting her arm linger next to his.

He feigned confusion. “Is that not what the kids are saying these days?”

“If they aren’t then they should because it’s pretty adorable.”

“See?” he shrugged, smiling back at her. “Still got it.”

An alert tone on the computer broke their reverie. Felicity reluctantly moved her arm away first, averting her gaze to focus on the monitor. Oliver scratched the back of his neck as he read the email attachment Felicity had just opened.

“So we should probably get back to this whole lesson thing,” Felicity said, pushing up the middle of her glasses.

“Yeah,” Oliver nodded. “Bring on the jargon. I’m ready.”

Felicity glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling as she swiftly retrieved the discarded paperclip and attached it to his shirt collar. “ _Now_ you’re ready,” she said, smiling wider as he sighed in exasperation.

* * *

An arrow sailed across the lair towards the bullseye target set up in the corner, sinking into the right side with a dull thud. Diggle lowered his bow in annoyance just as Sara returned from the bar upstairs. She began to collect the arrows scattered across the board. “I thought I had better aim,” he muttered. “Do you think anyone would notice if The Arrow became The Gun just for one night?”

“You’re doing fine, Digg,” Sara reassured him, walking back and handing him the bundle of weapons. “It’s more for distraction purposes anyway, then we’ll stick to hand-to-hand combat.”

“Did you fill Harper in on the plan?” he asked, placing the arrows into the quiver on his back.

Sara nodded. “He was kind of pissed not to be joining in but it was going to be too suspicious the both of us abandoning Thea and our bar duties for the evening.” She grabbed her sonic device off the workbench where she’d left it earlier and resumed tinkering with the exposed back. “Besides, it should be an easy run with those goons.”

Diggle snorted. “Tell that to Oliver’s knee,” he said, resting against the workbench.

“It’s not his knee that’s the problem it’s his stubbornness,” she countered, standing beside Diggle. They both looked over to where Oliver and Felicity were still sitting in front of the computers, Oliver smiling at whatever Felicity was gesturing animatedly about.

“I guess that’s why they haven’t moved for a few hours,” said Diggle. “He’s probably too pig-headed to admit he has no clue what Felicity’s talking about.”

Smirking, Sara turned her head to the side. “Yeah, _that’d_ be why they’re off in their own little world,” she teased.

Glancing at the blonde, Diggle chuckled. “You’ve picked up on that too, huh?”

“How could you not?” She watched Felicity duck her head, laughing at something Oliver said while holding up a paperclip. “God, they’re ridiculous aren’t they?” she said in wonder. “I just want to clunk their heads together.”

“Hey, if anyone gets that honor it’s me,” said Diggle, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve been witnessing this little dance for a long-ass time now. Do you know how exhausting it is keeping my mouth shut?”

Sara considered him. “Why _don’t_ you say anything?”

“I give little nudges every now and then,” he replied, plucking at the string of the bow. “But there’s no need to spook them.”

“Like cats,” she offered, breaking into a laugh with Diggle.

“Yeah. I’ll give you one guess which one’s Grumpy Cat.”

Sara fiddled with a screwdriver. “It’s nice to see Ollie like this,” she said. “Back on the island everything was so… hopeless,” she settled on, missing the flicker of sympathy crossing Diggle’s face. “And I mean it’s not always a picnic here, but there’s something different about him. He’s allowing himself to have those lighter moments in between the chaos.”

“It’s good to see Felicity settled again too,” said Digg, elaborating off Sara’s confused head tilt. “When Oliver went back to Lian Yu after Tommy died it was kind of rough on all of us, but I think Felicity took it to heart the most.” They heard a loud snort from their blonde colleague as Oliver pointed out something amusing on the computer screen. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like she was moping around the place, that’s not her style. It was more that Oliver shut himself off completely from everyone because he thought he didn’t deserve our support that upset her.”

“Definitely an Ollie speciality,” said Sara ruefully.

Diggle nodded, putting the bow down behind him. “She just wants the best for him.” He smiled to himself. “Once that girl believes in someone she’s in it for the long haul – something Oliver still needs to be reminded of every now and then.” 

Clicking the cover of her device back into place, Sara looked up at Diggle. “So I guess in the meantime we just stand aside and let them figure out things at their own pace?” she asked.

“However glacial that may be,” he deadpanned. 

A sly grin spread across her face. “I know something that could move them along,” she said with a wink. “Might want to cover your ears,” she added, holding up her newly restored equipment and giving it a quick press.

Oliver and Felicity leapt towards each other in shock as a quick, sonic screech reverberated through the lair. They both immediately glared at Sara who gave them an innocent look.

“Sorry!” she called out. “Just testing the upgrade!”

“How about you test it in a place that has no glass to shatter?” Oliver retorted, eyeing all of his cabinets to make sure there were no cracks.

“Or eardrums,” Felicity added with a wince.

“Relax, you’re fine, I know what I’m doing,” she replied, biting back a grin when she saw Oliver reach over and brush his hand across Felicity’s left ear in concern.

Diggle’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Oh yeah, you know what you’re doing all right,” he smirked.

Sara shrugged one of her shoulders, far too pleased with herself. “Hey, it’s probably less painful than smacking their heads together.”

* * *

“The party should be starting any minute now,” said Oliver, checking his watch before resuming his surveillance of the medical research building they’d parked down the road from in a dimly lit street.

Felicity pressed her earpiece. “Digg, Sara, everything going to plan?” She gave Oliver a small smile when their colleagues answered back in the affirmative. “Donut?” she asked him, offering the pink and white box his way.

“No thanks,” he replied, giving her a bemused look. “I can’t believe you actually brought them.”

“And I can’t believe you actually thought I wouldn’t,” she countered, biting into a choc-iced one. “They’re like my Popeye spinach,” she mumbled, licking some icing from her fingers so she could keep track of the security footage she’d hacked into on her tablet.

Oliver leaned over from the passenger seat to glance at the screen, satisfied to see Diggle and Sara in costume, skulking through the building towards the assailants. He jiggled his good leg up and down, flinching when Felicity briefly rested her hand on it to stop him from moving. 

“I know you’d rather be in there,” she said gently, “but everything will be OK. Sara and Diggle have it covered.” As if on cue they heard a commotion through their earpieces as the thieves realized they had company thanks to Sara’s sonic soundwave. They watched as Diggle shot an arrow through the bag of stolen supplies one man was trying to spirit away, pinning it to the wall behind him. Felicity let out a whoop of joy. “He’s going to be so proud he made that move! Hell, _I’m_ proud.”

Before a smile could fully register on Oliver’s face, he heard Diggle yell out in surprise when another attacker threw out a smoke bomb, shrouding everything in a thick fog. “Diggle?” he cried out, straining to hear. “Sara? Are you OK?”

Felicity gripped Oliver’s arm as they waited for what felt like hours, letting out a sigh of relief when Diggle’s voice eventually rang through the radio silence.

“We’re OK,” he coughed, “Sara ran after one of them and I’m tailing another but there’s two more on the loose.”

“They went out the fire escape,” Sara’s voice chimed in with a shout. “I’ll double back asap once I get this idiot.”

Switching around security cameras on screen to get a lock on everyone, Felicity heard the sound of a car door opening and swung her head to the side. “Oliver don’t you dare!” But her warning was futile as he was already half way outside.

“I have to,” he said darkly, throwing the blue hoodie of his civilians over his head as he half limped half ran down the street.

Two men dressed in black with balaclavas surged around the corner of the building, not expecting to be met with any interference. Oliver used their surprise to his advantage, throwing a succession of harsh punches at the first man and knocking him over, stumbling marginally on his injured leg with the momentum. 

Registering this weakness, the second, smaller of the two kicked Oliver right in his wounded knee, causing him to drop to the ground with a painful groan. Just as the man was about to deliver another kick to Oliver’s jaw he felt something crack against his skull and stumbled over in a daze before the item hit him again, square in the face. Oliver’s head shot up to find Felicity standing there in a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction as she held her now demolished tablet in her hands.

“I knew I’d finally get to unleash this one day,” she stammered, letting out a stunned laugh.

Movement out of the corner of Oliver’s eye made him avert his gaze, his face contorting in fear when a figure loomed behind the blonde. “Felicity, get out of the way!” he yelled, scrambling to his feet.

Felicity turned just in time to be knocked back into a parking meter by the first man, her shoulder connecting painfully with the corner, her glasses flying off in the fracas. Crying out, she dropped her device, clawing at the man who was grabbing for her before her training instincts kicked in and she curled her hand into a fist, throwing out a punch. She felt her hand connect with something solid before she swayed to the side, the man in front of her suddenly gone and a yell of rage from Oliver filling in the gaps between combat.

Making out her glasses on the ground, she bent down and quickly put them on, amazed yet grateful there was no damage. Her senses restored to high alert, Felicity tensed herself for more fighting but all that was in front of her were two masked men on the sidewalk, out for the count, and Oliver looming over them, his face clouded in darkness. 

“Oliver?” she said, wincing at the sudden twinge in her shoulder when she moved forward. “Holy mother of...”

Hearing her sharp intake of breath, Oliver snapped out of his haze and pushed the hoodie off his head, staggering over to her. He cupped her cheek, checking for any facial injuries before noticing that she was gripping her back.

“It’s my shoulder, I think I bruised it,” she said through gritted teeth. “Same damn place I got shot if you can believe it,” she added, huffing out a humorless laugh.

Oliver dropped his eyes with a slight shake of his head before looking up again, the concern evident in his gaze. “You shouldn’t have followed me, Felicity,” he said quietly. 

She tilted her chin up defiantly. “So I should have just watched you get beaten to a pulp instead? No thank you.” She saw the pain in his eyes and sighed, bringing up her free hand to rest on the one still cupping her jaw. “I help you, you help me. That’s the deal of this partnership. And besides,” she added with a soft smile, “My crime fighting ponytail is on _point_ today.”

Allowing her a small upturn of his lips, he gently dropped his hand from her face as they heard Diggle and Sara emerge from the building, each manhandling the respective target they’d been chasing. Oliver surveyed the other two still out cold on the ground and looked back at Felicity. “Let’s sort this mess out and go home.”

* * *

Muttering curses under her breath, Felicity slid on her pyjama bottoms, thankful that she wasn’t wearing a dress today and could just keep the tank top she had on originally. Her upper arm movement definitely wasn’t at its peak condition after the evening’s activities. Twisting her body around she looked at her shoulder in the dressing table mirror, grimacing when she could see a large, greenish bruise already forming. “Attractive,” she murmured as a knock sounded on her bedroom door.

“Felicity?” Oliver called out. “Can I come in?”

Walking over, Felicity opened the door and gestured him inside, having a split second of embarrassment over the mess of clothes currently residing on her ‘floordrobe’ (namely all of the underwear). Her attention was soon overtaken by Oliver’s even more pronounced limp as he struggled his way in to sit on the edge of the bed. “You really need to stop aggravating the injury and go rest somewhere.”

“I’m resting right now,” he replied, gesturing to the bed.

She raised her eyebrows, slanting her head to the side. “That’s not what I meant.”

He gave her a soft look. “I wanted to make sure you were alright first. I know Digg checked you over and nothing’s broken but…”

“I’m fine, Oliver,” she reassured him.

“Thought we weren’t using that word?” he retorted

Felicity let out a small, frustrated sigh. “Alright, I’m sore but I’ll live. How’s that?”

He braced his arms on the mattress, leaning back a little to gaze at her. “The living part is good,” he said quietly.

Feeling a jolt in her stomach, Felicity broke away from the eye contact and picked up the tube of muscle rub she’d found in the first aid kit in the kitchen. “How about I meet you in the movie theater in ten and I’ll finally introduce you to The Hunger Games? I think we’ve earned a night of doing nothing.”

“Do you… do you need some help with that?” he asked almost shyly, motioning at the tube of cream in her hands.

“No, no, it’s OK,” she rushed, “I’m sure I can manage.” She lifted her good arm and reached over her opposite shoulder, aiming for the muscle in question. “Just… need to…” she floundered around, stretching her hand before slumping in defeat. “Become a contortionist it would appear.” She scrunched up her nose. “Is that assistance still on offer?”

With a smile, Oliver stood up and took the few, slow steps towards her as she wordlessly passed him the tube. He unscrewed the lid and tossed it onto the dressing table before brushing Felicity’s ponytail to the side. Oliver held onto the straps of her tank top and bra and went to move them down before halting. “Sorry, is it alright if I…?” She nodded, taking a sharp intake of breath as he carefully slid the straps down to give him better access. He squeezed some of the cream onto his fingers and gently rubbed it into her damaged shoulder.

Felicity briefly closed her eyes at the sensation before biting her lip. “We’re quite the pair aren’t we?” she said jokingly. “Busted knee, busted shoulder, it’s an injury-palooza.”

“Did you take any painkillers?” he asked, gliding the pads of his fingers delicately across her bullet scar.

“No, this should be fine,” she said, trying not to shiver. “You?”

He shook his head. “Island remedies will be enough.” Oliver glanced up, noticing that Felicity was watching him in the vanity mirror. He let his hand glide higher up her shoulder and then traced it down her arm, lingering for a moment before he slid the straps of her clothing back into place. “All done,” he said softly, swallowing roughly when he could feel goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Thanks,” she replied, suddenly feeling way too warm. “We should, uh, we should go and watch that movie before it gets too late,” she reminded him, making herself step away. 

Oliver dropped his hand back to his side. “Yeah,” he nodded, “good idea.” He schooled his face into a more casual, unaffected expression. “But since you got first pick it’s only fair I get second.”

She groaned, falling into a smile. “If you’re forcing me to watch something with your buddy Stallone in it then there needs to be alcohol involved.”

“There’s wine in the kitchen,” he chuckled.

“That’s right, you never forget the wine do you?” she teased, before remembering what the context of that earlier conversation actually was. Felicity felt her face burn up but was intrigued to see the tell-tale sign of a blush creep onto Oliver’s cheeks too. “How about I go and get it since I’ve got two working legs and you set up the movie for us?” she said, offering them both a lifeline.

“Sounds good,” Oliver quickly replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

They looked at one another for a beat longer before they both moved at once towards the door. ‘ _There better be a whole freakin’ case of wine in that kitchen_ ,’ Felicity thought to herself, groaning inwardly. ‘ _We’re gonna damn well need it_ ’.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **It's finally done! Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to read this story & put up with my scattered updating skills. It's been a lot of fun to write. Timeline-wise, I'm imagining Slade turns up at the mansion not long after this concludes & the season plays out from there as it did on TV. Hope you all enjoy the final chapter!**

“So,” prompted Felicity, taking the last sip of red wine from her glass as the credits on the movie began to roll. “What’s the verdict?”

Oliver idly folded his arms behind his head, stretching out the muscles in his back. “My verdict on the movie or your running commentary about what was missing from the book?” he teased.

“I was trying to give you the complete experience!” she said. “Just think of me as your own personal DVD extra.” She rolled the stem of the wine glass between her hands. “Or don’t because that’s pretty weird now I’ve vocalized it.”

“I never said it was a bad thing,” he replied, resting an arm across the back of the leather recliner. “Both were exemplary.”

Felicity smiled at him, her eyes briefly flickering to his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. “And I think it’s exemplary you can come up with exemplary words after consuming wine.”

“We haven’t had _that_ much,” he replied, glancing from the empty bottle on the floor to the recently opened one nestled next to his thigh. 

“Did I sense a ‘yet’?” she asked, raising her glass with a smile. “Because I am all about plans that involve more wine.”

He laughed, grabbing onto the bottle with one hand and his glass with another as he gently eased himself up, minding his injured knee. “Shall we?” he asked, nodding his head towards the general vicinity of the kitchen. “You can go on ahead, I’ll catch up.”

Felicity shuffled her feet back into her cow slippers she’d toed off during the film, shaking her head. “I think I’ll just stick with you if that’s OK?” she said, stepping into place next to him as he hobbled out the room.

Oliver glanced down at her, sharing in her smile. “You’re just worried I’ll finish this off on the way without you, aren’t you?” he said, waving the Pinot Noir in the air.

“Yeah, that must be it,” she grinned.

* * *

Felicity’s heels made a drumming sound against the drawers of the island bench as she perched on top, swinging her legs freely. “… And that’s the reason why I started to dye my hair blonde,” she concluded, taking another bite of the grilled cheese toast they’d decided was vital to balance out their alcohol festivity.

“It’s strange to think you used to have black hair,” said Oliver, sitting on the bench across from her. “I can’t imagine you with it.”

“Excuse me, you watch where you’re going with any hair-related comments,” she threatened, pointing her toast triangle at him. “I’ve seen photos of you in your younger days.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “ _You looked like you were wearing a wig_.”

He snorted, taking a sip of his wine. “Laurel used to cut it for me sometimes.”

“For a hairdresser, Laurel makes a pretty fantastic lawyer,” Felicity replied, lifting her glass in a mock cheers. “OK your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’d think after five rounds you’d become less predictable.”

He shrugged. “Well it’s not called ‘truth or truth’ is it?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “I dare you to…” She cast her eyes around the room, smirking when she spotted his phone. “I dare you to send a duck face selfie to Roy.”

“You want me to _what_?”

“Y’know, _duck face_ ,” she implored, pouting her lips exaggeratedly. “Do your best Snooki. Channel your inner Miley Cyrus.”

Oliver quirked an eyebrow, picking up his phone. “Sometimes I think you just make up words and assume I won’t notice because you talk so fast.”

“And sometimes I think you’re the world’s youngest old person,” she retorted, hopping off the bench. “Come on, gramps, I’ll show you how it’s done.” Felicity sidled in next to him as he circled an arm around her carefully, holding the phone out in front of them. “Give me your best Blue Steel.” 

He took the photo, earning a poke in the ribs when he showed her the result. “What was that for?”

“This blank look of nothing-ness you’re giving me!” Felicity exclaimed, gesturing at the image. “I said Blue Steel not… _Beige Aluminium_.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah, well, neither does your dumb face.” She bit her lower lip, holding back a grin as Oliver couldn’t help but laugh. “Hello and welcome to Felicity Smoak’s tipsy trash talk hour,” she said glancing up at him before bursting into a giggle. She froze when she heard the camera go off. “Oliver! I wasn’t ready. I probably have five chins. And then each of those chins will have _their_ own chin!”

He smiled as he brought up the photo on the screen. Felicity had her head tipped back in carefree laughter, her hand clutching at his shirt, while Oliver beamed down at her his eyes crinkling. “I like this one,” he said fondly.

“Aside from my chin family tree… Yeah, me too,” she agreed, turning her head to meet his warm gaze. “It’s no duck face, though,” she quickly added, pushing gently on his arm so she could step away a couple of paces. She reached for his glass. “Refill?” she asked, not waiting for a response as she poured a generous amount.

“Thanks,” he said, putting his phone in his pocket while she filled up her own glass.

Felicity frowned. “You still haven’t finished your dare.”

“Probably best if I don’t,” he admitted. “Roy doesn’t need any more ammo for his ‘special’ brand of humor.”

“Well,” she mused, resting her hip against the bench, “as the rules of truth or dare go, that means you have to take your turn again. So, truth or dare? Wow, whatever will you…” 

“Truth,” he replied, startling her into silence with a smug smile.

“ _Now_ we’re talking,” she said enthusiastically. Felicity took a slow sip of wine, running through the list of questions in her mind before settling on the winner. “Why do you keep injuring yourself so much?” she asked hesitantly, schooling her face into a more serious expression.

The smile dropped from Oliver’s mouth as he cast his eyes downward. “Felicity…” he started, massaging the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Please?”

He glimpsed back at her, getting caught in the sparks of care and concern in that one simple word. “You’re probably not going to like where this is headed,” he cautioned.

“I had a feeling I wouldn’t based on all of your avoidance tactics,” she replied, offering him a brief quirk of her lips before placing her hand on his, stilling his restless fingers tapping against the bench top. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

Oliver nodded, glancing at their hands and swallowing a decent amount of his wine. “I keep getting injured - more so than usual,” he amended, “because… I’d rather deal with the physical pain over the emotional. If I lost someone the way I lost Tommy, I don’t,” he paused, licking his lips. “I don’t know if I’d be able to pick up the pieces again.”

“ _Oliver_ …” Felicity exhaled sympathetically, grasping onto his hand that little bit tighter.

He opened his mouth to continue, spurred on by the alcohol and her unwavering presence. “I just figure, better me hurt than anyone else, y’know? And now with Sara and Roy in the picture, as much help as they are, it only equals more people to eventually lose.” He shook his head. “I can’t _lose_ anyone else, Felicity. Especially not…” Oliver trailed off, gently turning his hand over so he could interlace their fingers.

Felicity put down her wine and stepped forward, moving her free hand to caress Oliver’s face the way he’d done with her in so many times of comfort. “Hey,” she said, waiting for him to meet her gaze. “Do you remember what you said to me at that rally, when I thought your mom was going to try and turn us against one another?”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he murmured, continuing to trace patterns against her skin with his thumb.

“Exactly,” Felicity replied, shuffling so that she was standing in front of him, her body pressed lightly against his legs. She let her hand trail down from his cheek to rest on his chest. “And you’re not going to lose _me_.” She could feel his heartbeat thumping erratically under her touch. “Not if I can help it.”

“That’s just it, though,” he said softly, his expression pained. “There are so many other extenuating circumstances in our line of work that we can’t…”

“Oliver,” she said, cutting him off. “I know it’s in your DNA but sometimes it’s OK to stop thinking in worst case scenario terms.” She broke into a slow smile. “And you can stop putting me to shame with all your fancy vocab any time now, too.”

He blinked at her, snapping out of his sombre mood with a short, surprised laugh.

“I’m serious,” she added, happy she’d lifted his spirits. “If I wasn’t already aware you knew nothing about the guy, I’d swear you’d be breaking out the Shakespeare next.”

“What can I say?” said Oliver nonchalantly. “Wine loosens my tongue.” He suddenly paused. “With words,” he clarified unnecessarily. “Not… other ways.” 

“Did you just do me?” Felicity’s hand flew from his chest to smack herself in the forehead. “A me-like _ramble_ I mean… God, we’re getting as bad as each other.” Oliver fought back a tiny smirk. “What?” she frowned.

“Nothing,” he said, eyes alight with mischief when she raised an eyebrow at him. “I was just going to say we must be rubbing off on one another but I didn’t want to make things worse.” He stared at her for a beat before they both broke into laughter.

“I am so glad this place isn’t bugged anymore,” said Felicity, their amusement eventually fading into a comfortable silence. She gently unlatched her hand from where it was still in his grasp to rest against his damaged knee. “Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

Felicity lifted her head to look at him. “Can you try and take it easier on yourself? For your own sake most of all, but also for my peace of mind?”

He gazed back at her, resisting the urge to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

* * *

Cradling a bowl of popcorn in one arm, and another bottle of red in the other, Felicity settled onto the sofa in the living room. She tucked her legs underneath her, careful to angle her body so her wounded shoulder wasn’t pressed into the back of the cushion. Oliver was already seated beside her; his legs sprawled out in front to rest on the coffee table, as he held the remote up to the TV in barely restrained annoyance.

“Eight million channels and there’s still nothing on,” he groused, wincing at the infomercial currently blaring at them like it had personally offended him.

Felicity opened the wine, smiling when Oliver automatically dropped the remote and picked up their empty glasses ready for her to pour. “Don’t be so quick to judge,” she replied. “The voiceover is promising us ‘a magical mystery tour.”

“They’re advertising a juicer, Felicity,” he said bluntly.

“A _magical_ juicer,” she refuted, contemplating the levels of alcohol in each glass before adding a touch more. “When was the last time an appliance promised you that?”

Oliver glanced at her. “Next time the toaster abracadabras a white rabbit instead of bread you’ll be the first to know.”

She laughed, setting down the bottle to dig her hand into the buttery popcorn. “I’m sure there’s a Friends re-run on somewhere. Just keep looking.”

* * *

“Ross was right,” Oliver mused. “They probably could have got the furniture up there with another pivot or two.”

Felicity snorted. “Oh my God, this is priceless.” She shook her head with a smile at his confused look. “You, Digg and Roy helping me move out of my apartment? You were such a Ross.”

“I think you mean _boss_ ,” he countered.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, OK, because I seem to remember the other two plotting to throw you out the fire escape when you spent an hour trying to awkwardly shove my bookshelf through the doorway.”

“We got it out in the end didn’t we?”

“After Digg dismantled it first,” she said with a laugh.

He shrugged, his mouth lifting up at the corners. “At least now we know the quickest way to move it if you set it up here one day.” Realizing what he’d just implied he quickly backtracked. “Or in your own apartment where you’d probably prefer it,” he added, fixing his eyes on the TV screen.

Felicity gazed at him, knowing it wasn’t just the effects of the wine filling her cheeks with warmth. “Yeah, you definitely don’t want my furniture in here,” she said lightly. “I think that goes against some sort of ‘temporary houseguest’ code and we wouldn’t want that.”

Oliver glanced back at her, pretending to give the idea some solemn thought. “No, we wouldn’t want that,” he echoed.

She ducked her head, brushing some stray popcorn off her lap. “I mean, if we go down that route, next thing you know there’ll be matching monogrammed towels in the bathroom,” she said in feigned seriousness.

“In all _three_ bathrooms,” Oliver replied. “We’re not wild animals.” He smiled when she chuckled lightly under her breath.

“The study would be turned into a shrine for my old yet still adored computer collection,” she continued.

He nodded. “The kitchen would be overrun with sugary cereals.”

Felicity propped up her elbow on the back of the couch, leaning her head on her hand. “Well it’s not like we’ll ever want to hire a chef again, so it’s all we’ll have to survive on.”

“That’s true,” he agreed. “Just you, me and Lucky the leprechaun against the world.”

They clinked their glasses together to solidify the deal, smiling at one another as they each took a drink. “But we definitely wouldn’t want that,” said Felicity, her voice quiet with reflection.

“No,” said Oliver with a sad smile, “we definitely wouldn’t.”

* * *

“I think the wine is finally doing its damage to me,” Felicity admitted a short while later, her sentence strung together in a languid fashion.

Oliver held up his hand for a high-five. “Same here,” he said, as her hand clumsily lunged forward and made contact with his wrist. “Remind me to teach you about aim one day.” He pursed his lips. “Not with sharp arrows though.”

Felicity nudged the empty popcorn bowl onto the floor with the tip of her cow slipper before nestling in against Oliver’s side. “I feel kind of hot all over but also kind of cold? Like that song by that singer person.” She peered up at him. “Do you know that singer person?”

He gave her question some serious thought. “… Maybe?”

“Don’t worry, you probably don’t,” she pacified, patting his chest. “I’ll remember it soon. My brain is full of lots of smart things… That have names and shapes and colors and…” She scrunched up her nose. “Probably shouldn’t drink anymore alcohol now.”

Oliver watched her rub her tired eyes under her glasses. He lifted his arm to place it around her shoulder, flinching when she sucked in a hissing breath. “ _Shit_ , I’m sorry,” he stammered, quickly retracting his arm. “I completely forgot. Did I hurt you?”

“It’s alright,” she replied, meeting his concerned gaze. “Really, it skipped my mind for a while too.” She pumped her fist in a lazy cheer. “Yay for wine!”

“Are you sure?”

“No, you suck and I’ll hate you forever,” she said deprecatingly.

He smirked, moving his arm again to settle it on the back of the sofa behind her head. “You’re a mean drunk, Ms Smoak,” he deadpanned.

She poked his bicep. “And you’re a ‘forgets to offer their roommate a comfy sofa blanket’ drunk,” she replied, giving the linen in question draped over the arm of the furniture a pointed look.

“Well done on the short name,” he said, grabbing the blanket with his free hand and carefully wrapping it around both of their bodies, cocooning them. Oliver smiled when she tucked her head under his chin, affection surging through him like an electrical jolt. “Katy Perry,” he murmured offhandedly. “She’s the singer.”

Felicity drew her head back to gape at him. “How and why do _you_ know the thing?”

“Raisa listens to all kinds of music back at the mansion,” he mumbled.

She poked her tongue between her teeth. “Sing a bit for me?” she asked mischievously.

“I’d rather send twenty selfies to Roy.”

* * *

“Felicity?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you think I should buy that juicer?”

“I _know_ you should buy that juicer.”

“Cool.”

* * *

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“Sing some Katy Perry for me.”

“ _No_.”

“Well then you leave me no choice.”

“No choice for what?”

“Oliver Queen, you have _failed_ this Felicity.”

“That’s not… don’t do that.”

* * *

Felicity yawned deeply; only semi-focusing on the orangutan documentary that neither of them had bothered to switch over nearly an hour and a half ago. “I never had a proper burial for those sea monkeys I killed in elementary school,” she admitted, stirring Oliver from the short doze he’d fallen into pressed against her side.

“Who killed what?” he murmured groggily into her hair, before leaning back and attempting to shake out the pins and needles from his arm.

“Just flushed them right down the toilet,” she continued guiltily, reaching across Oliver’s stomach to locate the remote. She turned the TV off and stretched out her legs, resting them next to Oliver’s on the coffee table. “What time is it?”

Oliver fished around in his pocket for his phone, pressing a button to light up the screen. “After three. It’s pretty late.”

“We should probably turn in,” she said, stifling another yawn before reluctantly unwrapping herself from their shared blanket. “Ooh, headspin,” she said, steadying herself at the movement. “ _That’s_ going to be fun in the morning.”

“You go,” said Oliver as she stood up and waited for him. “I might just stay here so I don’t have to attempt the stairs with my knee.”

She frowned at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, you won’t get a good night’s sleep laying on there.” Felicity held out her hand, wriggling her fingers at him. “I’ll help you.”

“Felicity…”

“Nope, no name protests, get up,” she said, smiling when he sighed and conceded defeat like she knew he would. Oliver took her proffered hand, but used most of his own weight to lift himself up. “It’s OK, I won’t break,” she encouraged.

“Coming from the person with the battered shoulder.”

Felicity gave him her best defiant look. “Who says we’ll need a shoulder?” She grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her waist. “Come on, hotshot, let’s go.” She felt his fingers tense against her tank top for a split second before relaxing.

“I take it back,” he said, as they slowly made their way to the staircase, only stumbling a couple of times along the way.

“Take what back?”

“You’re not a mean drunk, you’re a bossy drunk.”

“I can still drop you on your ass you know,” she goaded. “Which may accidentally happen anyway because you’re kinda dead weight right now.” She waited for him to grab onto the railing. “It’s a good thing I _didn’t_ take any painkillers – you’re not supposed to operate heavy machinery.”

“Thanks,” he said sarcastically, climbing up the first couple of stairs.

“Think of it as a compliment – like you’re the Terminator,” she enthused, placing a hand on his arm. “I know you’re awful at English accents but how’s your Arnold?” Felicity smiled as she was met with an exasperated sigh in return.

When they reached the top Oliver braced an arm against the wall and cast a despairing look down the hallway, his bedroom appearing miles away. “This place is way too big,” he muttered.

Anchoring his arm around her waist once more, Felicity gently nudged him ahead. “Any way I phrase this it’s going to sound wrong but… Come stay in my room. Only for a quick stopover,” she clarified. “It’s the closest out of the two,” she reasoned, “and we can pump some herbs and spices into you, which makes you sound like a KFC combo, but you know what I mean.”

Oliver opened his mouth to valiantly protest, but a sudden twinge in his knee had him gritting his teeth. “Maybe for five minutes,” he conceded.

* * *

Emerging from her en suite with a glass of water, Felicity perched at the end of her bed and handed the drink to Oliver, who was propped up against the headboard with an abundance of fluffy pillows (at Felicity’s insistence).

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. He tentatively flexed his wounded knee up and down, testing the movement as best he could.

“Island medicine mojo kicked in yet?” Felicity asked, undoing her hair elastic and shaking out her ponytail.

“Getting there,” he said, taking another mouthful of water before placing the glass on the nightstand. He saw an untidy pile of rental applications nearby and picked them up, noticing with a fleeting moment of curiosity that Felicity still hadn’t completed the majority of them. “I hate filling out forms as well,” he said conversationally, nodding at the papers. “Which probably isn’t the best thing for a CEO of a company to admit.”

Felicity huffed out a soft laugh, tracing her fingers across the striped pattern of the bedspread. “The funny thing is, I usually really enjoy it. I find the structure of it soothing.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Those particular ones, though… not so much.”

Oliver gazed at her with a soft expression, before clearing his throat. “Probably just as well anyway,” he said, breaking the quiet moment. “You’ve spelt your own surname name wrong on this one.” He held the wrinkled form in front of him and read aloud. “S-m-o- _k-e_? You’re slipping.” 

“What? _No way_ ,” Felicity exclaimed, crawling forward across the mattress until she was sitting next to Oliver, peering at the paper in his hand. She heard him start to chuckle and yanked the form away to swat his arm with it. “You are such a liar!” She laughed. “Those herbs should come with a warning label for side effects – may cause nausea and jerk-itis.”

He leaned in towards her ear. “Payback for the Terminator quip,” he replied, eyes shining with amusement.

“Oh please,” she scoffed, “like you’re the wounded party here.” Felicity matched his stance, leaning closer into his space. “As if you don’t secretly love it,” she teased. The words caught in her throat when Oliver’s smile faded and was replaced with a more intense scrutiny. She swallowed roughly as he slowly lifted his hand, hesitating only a moment before twirling a lock of her hair around his fingers.

“I could,” he said, the words tumbling out before he’d had a chance to even register he’d said them. Oliver heard her breath hitch and he glanced up at her, noticing the conflicting emotions dancing across her face. He unravelled the blonde strand from his grasp, letting it settle over her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, starting to inch back, “I shouldn’t have…”

Felicity grabbed onto his shirt, cutting off the rest of his sentence by surging forward and pressing her mouth to his in a searing kiss. She heard him breathe in sharply through his nose before moving his lips hungrily against hers, his hands travelling to rest on her lower back. 

Oliver felt her nimble fingers glide up his chest and across the scruff of his cheek, gladly bowing to her whims when she gently tugged on the hair at the back of his head to change the angle and deepen the kiss. There was a lingering taste of red wine on her tongue when it curled around his. That and the feel of her in his arms was enough to send him into a euphoric, drunk high of a different kind. 

She let out a soft moan when Oliver’s fingers crept under the material of her tank top, skimming across her rapidly burning skin. Felicity shifted her body closer on instinct, haphazardly draping herself halfway across his lap. She arched back when Oliver’s mouth left hers to press hot, wet kisses down her neck, her pulse thrumming under his touch. Felicity tilted his chin up to capture his mouth in another kiss, smiling against his lips when she scratched her fingernails through his hair causing him to groan.

Too immersed in the heady sensations, Oliver grasped her shoulders to pull her against him completely, realizing his error just as she drew back with a surprised yelp of pain. “ _Felicity_ ,” he gasped against her mouth apologetically, his breath hot against hers. “I’m a complete goddamn idiot. I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK,” she panted, trying to collect herself as the dull ache emanating from her bruise made her wince. “I’ll be fine.” Untangling herself from his embrace, Felicity sat back on the messed-up bedspread with a shaky exhale. She shivered when she felt Oliver’s hand softly brush over the skin on her shoulder.

“We should have taken you to the hospital,” he said, his mouth set in a thin line as he reverently traced over the deep green and blue blemish covering her scar.

She turned towards him as he dropped his hand away. “Just like we should have taken you with your knee?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“That was… different.”

“Yeah, because getting kung-fu’d into a parking meter _really_ trumps nearly being run over by a car driven by goons,” she retorted before breaking into an incredulous laugh. “Oh my God, our life is legitimately a video game.”

Oliver tried to maintain his aura of concern but couldn’t help a small smile from escaping. “You’re only realizing this now?”

“I guess I just hadn’t thought to hit pause and take stock until now,” she replied, curling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees. She glanced at him, her cheeks flushing when she took in his dishevelled appearance and knew she probably looked just as wrecked. 

As if reading her thoughts, Oliver nervously ran a hand across his hair. “Um, maybe I should let you get some rest?”

“Right,” Felicity nodded. “Or maybe,” she added uncertainly, licking her lips before working up the courage again. “Maybe we just need a little help from an old acquaintance?” She met his confusion with a wry smile and mimed bouncing around a paperclip. “I see you’ve just made out with your best friend slash workmate and now things are slightly awkward – what would you like to do?”

Oliver broke into a relieved laugh, relaxing fractionally against the wall of pillows. “What suggestions does our mutual friend have in mind?”

“Well,” said Felicity, “there’s the first option where we part ways for the night and never speak of this again. A tried and true method but personally not a favorite of mine,” she added as an aside.

“What’s the second?”

Felicity tilted her head with a smile. “We act like adults and stay here to catch some Z’s with the promise of a conversation in the morning. And yes,” she added, glancing down at her shoes, “I am aware that would probably have a more adult air of authority to it if I weren’t currently wearing cows on my feet.”

He smiled at her as she kicked the slippers onto the ground. “It’s OK, I’m convinced,” he said, easing his legs to the side so they could drag down the comforter. “I’m even thinking about getting my own pair.”

“Shut up,” she muttered with a laugh, removing her glasses and placing them on the nightstand closest to her. She turned the lamp off and wriggled under the covers, taking care to lie on her good side. Nestling her head into the pillow, Felicity noticed that Oliver had mirrored her position on his side of the bed, their hands resting in between. She felt her stomach jolt with warmth when Oliver closed the gap and placed his hand over hers before closing his eyes. They lay in silence for a while until the darkness and comfort of the room lured them into sleep.

* * *

The shrill sound of an incoming text message woke Oliver with a start later that morning. He shoved a pillow over his head to block out the intrusion but the phone kept beeping at him until he finally gave in and retrieved it from his pocket. Lifting the pillow, he opened a bleary eye to see that it was just after seven, a time which Roy thought was vital to respond to texts.

_dunno why u sent me ur modelling portfolio but if u ever make me slap water again im bringing out the duck face selfies as blackmail_

_p.s. i sent them 2 digg & sara 2 UR WELCOME!!!!!_

Groaning, Oliver threw his cell to the end of the bed, vague memories hitting him of Felicity gleefully encouraging him at the height of their drunkenness to go through with the abandoned dare and send Roy some photos. He rolled onto his back to see why the noise hadn’t woken her as well when he realized that her side of the bed was empty aside from a piece of paper. Oliver picked up the apartment application form and read the note written neatly on the back. 

_You can find me on the roof ready to zip line away from your snoring. Only kidding. I want to eat pancakes for breakfast not become one. But seriously though do you have sleep apnoea? You should get that checked out. No human should be that loud. OK this quick memo has suddenly become a novel, bye._

Oliver shook his head in amusement as he eased his body upwards, gently swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to check on his knee. But the herbs had apparently done wonders overnight and his movement range was back to a more manageable, and walkable, degree. 

He found Felicity sitting on a deckchair amidst the scattered remnants of what was once a brilliant rooftop garden his mother had enjoyed tending to. She was sipping a mug of coffee, silver thermos by her side, as she gazed out at the city skyline.

Felicity glanced up when she heard movement nearby, smiling at Oliver over the edge of her cup when he sat on the chair beside her. “You’re moving a lot better,” she noted, offering him the spare mug she’d brought up with her. “Which is almost a shame because I had the nickname Sir Limps-a-lot all lined up for you.”

Oliver poured the steaming liquid from the thermos into his cup, his lips twitching with a smile. “A shame indeed,” he agreed. “Sorry you didn’t get much sleep,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.

She shrugged. “I don’t think I would have anyway judging by the marching band currently celebrating its way through my skull.” Felicity rubbed her temple. “Funnily enough they’re playing ‘Red Red Wine’ over and over again.” 

“If it’s any consolation I feel like shit as well,” said Oliver. “Oh, and apparently Roy now has an arsenal of selfies he can terrorize me with too, so that’s great.”

Felicity cupped her hand to her mouth, trying not to snicker. “Wow, I thought I dreamt that,” she mumbled, lowering her hand and scrunching her nose apologetically. “Whoops?”

“We’ll just blame the wine,” he replied, resting his forearms on his legs.

Nodding, Felicity played with the tie of her robe. “I don’t think we should blame the wine entirely for _everything_ that happened last night, though,” she said carefully, looking up to gauge his response. “Do you?”

Oliver met her gaze, seeing his own shy uncertainty reflected in her eyes. “No,” he replied. “Honestly, I think it may have actually illuminated something.” He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “But we …”

“It’s OK, I know what you’re going to say,” Felicity interrupted, offering him a small smile.

“You do?”

“I still remember the post-Russia discussion pretty well.” She waved her hand at him when he opened his mouth to speak. “And I’m not upset or mad or anything,” she added. “If I’m being truthful, I don’t think either of us are in the right headspace at the moment to give our full attention to whatever this… thing is,” she said, gesturing between them. “I just wanted…” She paused, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Tell me,” Oliver gently encouraged.

Felicity exhaled slowly. “I just wanted some acknowledgement that this ‘thing’ could maybe play out one day. Because I’d convinced myself for a while there that there was not a hope in hell, but then lately… I don’t know,” she shrugged. “It’s been _different_.”

Bolstered by her openness and candour, Oliver reached across to grasp onto her hand. “I try not to make a lot of promises, especially to people close to me. Because with the way I live my life I know I can’t always keep them,” he admitted. “But believe me, Felicity.” He gave her a soft smile. “I’d really like there to be a not-so-distant future where this could play out.”

She smiled back at him, the expression tinted with a hint of sadness. “That’s all I needed to hear for now,” she nodded. “I decided to look at more apartments today,” she said quietly. “I think it’s probably time.”

“As much as I’ve gotten used to this, it’s probably a good idea for both of us to not be in such close quarters,” Oliver replied, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Felicity closed her eyes as he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She gave his hand a squeeze before letting it go, the moment between them packed away for another time. Shaking off the imaginary cobwebs they drew apart, allowing themselves to fall back into the safety of their usual banter. 

“I don’t know about you,” Felicity said suddenly, sitting back with a gleam in her eyes, “but I could really go for a Bloody Mary and a big pretzel right about now.”

He smiled fondly at her, angling his head to the side of the building. “Want to take the zip line to the shops?”

“Sure!”

“Wait, seriously?”

“God no. It’s like you _want_ me to throw up.”

* * *

_One week later_

“Great! Thank you so much!” Felicity ended the call on her cell, grinning at everyone in the foundry. “The townhouse is officially mine!” she announced happily. 

“That’s awesome,” Sara enthused. “When can you move in?”

“Tomorrow apparently,” she replied, swerving her chair from side-to-side with a coy look. “Which means I’ll need my _favorite_ Team Arrow removal squad on hand to help with the heavy lifting.”

Roy threw his head back with a groan. “But you have so much _junk_ ,” he complained.

“Cry me a river, Mirakuru boy,” said Diggle, glancing up from where he was cleaning his weapon collection. “Count me in, Felicity. And congratulations,” he smiled.

“I’ll be there this time too,” said Sara, collecting her gym bag to head upstairs. “I’ve heard the legend of the bookcase but I need to see it in person.”

“Thanks guys,” said Felicity, chuckling at Roy’s unenthused ‘count me in too I guess’ as she turned back to her computer. A loud thump sounded to her left where a large gift-wrapped box had suddenly appeared. She looked up to find Oliver smiling at her.

“Happy housewarming,” he declared, his smile widening at her surprise. “I may have had this wrapped for a few days just in case.”

She fingered the green ribbon with an amused look. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Oliver.”

He smirked to himself like he was in on some private joke. “Oh trust me. I did.”

Felicity shrugged. “OK then, well, cool!” She handed him some printouts she’d just doctored. “Here’s the tickets for that club you’re infiltrating tonight.”

“Thanks.”

“And I was thinking, seeing as it’s my last night at the penthouse and all, that you might want to watch a movie for old time sake after you’re done?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Play your cards right and I might actually let you watch a Stallone one.”

“Well now I’m definitely in.” He smiled at her, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to miss having a roommate,” he said sincerely.

“Me too,” she replied, grinning back at him. “Mainly because of your wine collection, but you factor in there somewhere too.” Felicity laughed as he just shook his head and walked over to set up the gym mats. She turned her attention to her present and eagerly ripped into the paper, cracking up when she saw what was inside.

One brand new juicer.

_End_


End file.
